


Speakeasy Soul

by nighttimelights



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (it's marijuana and they use it in positve circumstances - make good choices ya cuties), (only some spanglish use at points), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Casual Drug Use, Drinking, Female Reader, Mafia AU, Mob AU, Mobtale - Freeform, Slightly slow burn, Soul Magic, Violence, drug mention, implied childhood abuse, many monsters are bilingual, more tags as the story progresses, reader can sing/etc, reader is lady identified, reader is mid-20's, underage drinking (implied)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 129,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighttimelights/pseuds/nighttimelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 years ago, monsters were freed from the Underground. Now, magic food and drink are illegal thanks to the prejudice of most of humanity and an alternate universe of '30s style and taste, Prohibition, and the age of the mafias has arisen. Speakeasies serving magic food and alcohol abound, and you are a singer for the largest and most popular of the monster-run speakeasies, <i>El Fuego Del Alma</i>.</p><p>Tensions have only increased over the past few years, and a run-in with a bunch from a human mafia sets you on a path pulling you ever closer to your newest acquaintance, Sans - a laid-back skeletal monster mobster with a knack for giving you goosebumps in more ways than one. Drawn to one another in an era of danger, alcohol, drugs, and intrigue, you find yourself irrevocably intertwined in the darkest workings of the shadowy side of Ebott City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Star Struck

It was in the low twinkle of the chandeliers and the smoky hush of the cavernous dance hall that you stepped up to the soft hum of the mic. Your face was flush with the bright lights focused on the stage, the drink you had nursed earlier giving you a little liquid courage as you evened out your breath. The dance hall was lively as always, tables packed with monsters and humans alike, the bar stretching along the length of the hall littered with patrons and heady chatter.

A nearly-silent shift behind you, an inhale… and the band began to play. 

The monsters behind you picked up a quick swinging number, the jazzy beat a standard that set your foot tapping as you slid a hand up the microphone stand with a smile and a wink to a nearby table. The cacophony of the room faded to a murmur to your ears as you counted out the last leading beats. Then, drawing the microphone close, you sung.

There were cheers from the audience, and more than a few wolf-whistles. You tossed out another wink as you reached the refrain and leaned into the lyrics, belting out the pick-up. 

You sang your way through a well-rehearsed set, moving in time with the band behind you, eyes roving the audience. A group of human men towards the back caught your eye, their hushed conversation and closed body language a little unusual. A monster waitress swept by their table and deposited a number of glistening drinks, the alcohol swirling amber and gold in several of them - a special made by your favorite bartender. The group barely touched them.

With some effort, you kept your eyes moving as you danced during a musical interlude. You spun, short dress brushing against the top of your knees. A few other tables caught your eye - there, a few members of the financial exchange, and nearby was a mix of suppliers. Across the audience was scattered those who kept to themselves, members of the monster mob, women and men and others who walked the streets, and more - but they weren’t the ones you were necessarily looking for. 

With the slow end of a crooning number, you finished your set with a dip and a flourish. The hall rang with clapping and cheers.

You smiled through the twinkle of the lights and gestured to the dancefloor front and center of the stage, where a number of monsters and humans had already been dancing. “Thanks for the ear, folks! Give it up for our lovely band, who are playing on for you all. As always, drag your loves and lads out to the floor for a good time,” your voice is low and light, and you laugh. “Keep it friendly for the faint of heart, though. And save a dance for me!” You swept off the stage, pecking the cheek of the nearby trumpetist as you did, setting the monster woman’s face aflame in a pleased blush. You called out a salute to the band as they lifted their instruments to pick back up again.

The music started again as you strode towards the bar, passing waves and thank you’s to monsters and humans who called out as you passed. Your face was flush with the performance high as you plopped into a seat at the bar, waiting your turn as a group of suspiciously young looking monsters received their drink from the flaming bartender. You chuckled as he walked towards you, slipping their coins into the cash box as he passed it.

“Gotta love what monster food can do to keep you looking young these days, Grillby,” you remarked, setting your cheek in one hand.

“Even better what a decent attitude and good gold will do,” Grillby replied. His voice was low and rough, the cadence of a spanish accent giving a smooth and rounded lilt to the bonfire crackle of his voice. He didn’t have eyes, or really even a discernable mouth, but you had long learned how to read the shift of his flames behind his wire frames. You laughed at the wry twist of his fire. 

“Can’t argue with that, though I’m almost surprised the made it past our little strongarm,” you replied. “I’ve gotta get back out there, but mind grabbing me the usual?” 

He nodded, reaching below him to pull out a tall, thin glass. “Knowing your right words will get you far in this world,” he observed of the young monsters who had gone to experiment with their drinks at a booth along the back wall. You nod with a breathy laugh in response. With entrancingly smooth movements and a practiced touch, Grillby took the glass and mixed in a number of chilled liquids, one fizzing, and with a tilt of the glass slipped in the contents of the last bottle - a sparkling amber liquid. As he set down the bottle, he swiped a single fiery knuckle along the rim of the glass, fogging up the open area and making stark cool crystals form at the bottom of the glass. He passed it to you with an easy slide along the smooth stone countertop.

You lifted it to your lips and sipped, the heat of the rim warming your lips as you drank the chilled liquor, feeling the warm buzz of magic tingle through your veins and settle brightly in your chest as you pulled back. As you looked at Grillby you felt the pulse of magic, and little stars ringed your vision. Grillby’s flames twitched into a smile. Your head was surround by a small cloud of tiny, sparkling stars, and your pupils had shifted into small star shapes.

“Give them a run for their money, _mija_ ,” he said. You laughed and slipped off your stool.

“Don’t I always, Grillby?” You replied as you moved back towards the dance floor, drink in hand.

Mingling was a great skill of yours, helped along by the magical drinks you had grown accustomed to. An easy smile rested on your face as you talked to various patrons, many of them regulars and friends. You stepped up to the group of merchants after a few minutes of slowly making your way through the room.

“Thanks for coming, gentlefolk,” you said. The group welcomed you with a cheer, halfway through a new round of drinks.

“Your voice is makin’ me rethink my life as always, gorgeous!” One man grinned, arm around a younger woman who didn’t look upset in the slightest.

“You’ve got to do a private performance for our next little meeting,” one monster insisted, a dopey smile on his face. His drink was a bright pink and little bubbles fizzed and popped above. You covered your mouth to hide your smile - the drink aptly named Lottie Love was a hit among all the genders, and the feel-good effects lasted most the night.

You took a sip of your drink, the fading stars twinkling brightly and coming into focus once again as the group oooh’d and one of the human women leaned back as a waitress passed to eagerly request the same. “I’m flattered, Leo, but you know just how fond I am of my little residency here,” you replied with a sweeping gesture to the cavern-like room. 

“You’re practically the star of this joint, canary - hardly little!” Another monster argued proudly. The other monsters joined in, and you flushed with the praise, waving them off with a laugh and a bow. 

“It’s you all who make me shine the way I do,” you said with a grin, pointing at the small stars floating around your head. A chorus of cheers and groans followed you as you take your leave with a cheeky bow and a wave. You danced your way through the floor for a few minutes, spinning from one patron to the next, greeting familiar faces and new alike.

Not all the groups you visited truly brought up flags. As one of the main entertainers for _El Fuego Del Alma _, it was in good taste to bump shoulders with the crowd - it’s part of the draw, after all. Well, outside of the illegal fare. There was always something of a rush in being underground like this, in more than just the literal sense.__

At last you slipped away from the dance floor again and make it to one of the back tables, the one with the hushed group of human men. You smiled as you approached, turning on the charm to match your magical sparkle. 

“I don’t suppose any of you fine men are up for a spin around the floor?” You asked as you took one last sip of your drink, sending a fresh wave of dancing stars about your head. You deposited your glass on the proffered tray of a passing waiter, murmuring a thank you to them before refocusing back on the table. 

“We don’t wanna hog your attention,” one of them said, looking away. None of them were really looking you in the eye, and you knew with barely a glance that the nearly-depleted drinks in front of them were not only the same from earlier, but they were non-magical. The drink’s effects were internal, as opposed to your own - the men would be feeling particularly warm and bright, like they had an oddly comfortable set of coals in their core. 

“Nothing would make me more pleased than to get to know a few new faces,” you responded. You leaned forward onto the table slightly, turning on the charm to get at least one of them to look at you. They all looked distinctly uncomfortable, still, though you could see a few were fighting and losing the temptation to slide their gaze up your bare arms. 

You fought a sigh. But it had paid off - “Alright, alright, can’t say no to a face like that then, can I,” one groused. He pushed a couple of his companions out of the way and offered his arm. You snaked yours through it and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor. The song was of a quick pace, and you stepped up to him and fell in to the beat quickly. He wasn’t quite so smooth, and was making a clear effort to try to not trip over you. You ignored his inexpert leading and focused on staying out of the way of his legs. 

“So what brings you in to our little joint?” You asked, playing up the kind of cadence only plentiful drinking can match. 

“A guy’s gotta cut loose now ‘n then,” he replied, glancing at you before watching the floor. He didn’t seem to think much of your question. 

You slid one hand across the lapel of his suit, fiddling with a fold. “I love it when we get new folks back here - it’s real keen, you know?” You said with a giggle. Your fingers smoothed his lapel, not finding what you were looking for. 

He grunted noncommittally. Another minute of pained concentration and the song ends, and he stepped back as quickly as he could get away with, mumbling something about needing to talk to his friend, and made a beeline to his table. For the first time, you saw the faces of the men there lift a little as they jostled and teased their friend before settling back in. You made your way back to the bar with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, bringing back an easier and less vapid smile to your face. 

You made conversation with a sweet bunny monster and a human girl back at the bar for a few minutes, gossiping about a few entertainers and one of the latest political tizzies they had overheard on the radio. A waitress made of green flame passed by you as the girls took off and dropped off a basket of fries. 

“Fuku, you are a lifesaver,” you all but groaned, popping a fry into your mouth. “Ugh, even better than the last batch!” 

“You say that everytime,” she laughed. “Eventually it’s just gonna hit a level!” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you replied as you wave a fry in denial. “Seriously, I don’t know how the whole crew keeps making such good stuff. I mean, the magic has it’s own punch, but even if they were regular fries…” 

“Yeah, they do have just the right kind of crisp, huh?” she said, an honest grin splitting the fire of her face. “Anyways, that one’s on us, no worries!” 

You thank her profusely as she waves you off and returns to the kitchen. You make your way through the fries, content to wait for Grillby to have a moment. 

Your attention wanders, and you look across the room. Three beautiful crystal chandeliers cast the majority of the low light of the room, hanging from the crystalline stone roof. Despite being literally underground, the speakeasy was a gorgeous one; tables were scattered close together across the room, the edges populated by cozy booths, and all ringed around the dark wooden dancefloor in front of the stage. You watched as the band improvised a jazz number, the bassist currently plucking their way through the twining rises and falls of the saxophonist, framed by warm tinted curtains. The bar - and back entrance to the kitchen - laid along the adjacent wall stage left, and stretched nearly the entire way to the corner. Grillby walked back and forth, handling many of the orders, but there was a barhand who helped him out as things needed stocking and cleaning. Candles topped by soft magical flames dotted each table and the stretch of the bar, and the walls were a deep, warm creme broken by intricately carved stone pillars that flowed into the twinkling crystal ceiling. You had been here for two years now, and didn’t think you’d ever tire of del Alma’s atmosphere. 

“How goes it, _belleza?_ ” 

You turned, throwing Grillby a smile. He didn’t use names much for anyone, but you were among the few whom he spoke with at any sort of length and fell into some sort of sweet exception. “All’s well, for the most part. We’ve got a table of pills over by Grey’s section, though - grouchy at best, scouts at worst, I’d wager,” you said as you finished off the last of your fries. Grillby gestured to his bar hand, who hurried over with a glass of water. You nodded a thank you as Grillby’s gaze roved across the speakeasy, slow and all but imperceptible. 

“Yes, I was wondering as much,” he agreed, picking up a glass and wiping it clean of any smudges. “Thank you for the eye, as always.” 

You drank deeply from the glass of water, careful to keep it closer to you than to Grillby’s side of the bar. “My pleasure, as always - back at you,” you reply. His flames flicker in his sort of smile, and you stay in companionable silence as you both look out over the room. 

\--------------------- 

It was in the latest hours of the night, essentially the early hours of the morning, that you slipped out the nondescript back door of the marketplace. Overtown, the side of Ebott City that most monsters lived in, had a number of all-hours markets; with so many monsters living nocturnally and others still not needing to sleep, they had become a staple that even humans would visit for their convenience. One of the largest ones made the perfect front for an entrance to _El Fuego del Alma_. 

You waved at several of the stall owners as you passed by, stopping to grab a steaming Cinnamon Bunny pastry and make some conversation with the rabbit woman who ran the booth shop. The heels of your shoes were digging into your achilles tendons, though, so you bid your farewell fairly quickly and wound your way through the partially open marketplace. 

One heel was really starting to throb as the magical food and drink of the night wore off, so you finished off your non-magical pastry and decided to take a shortcut home. Your apartment was about 10 blocks away if you stuck to the main roads, but there were some back alleyways you knew well that would cut that down, so you turned back towards the alley the speakeasy’s entrance was in to take your shortcut. 

Halfway through that first alley, you saw shadows shifting around the corner. The thought to go the long way crossed your mind, but goddammit it had been a long night and you just wanted to get home and get these shoes off. You drew your jacket closer around you, tucked your head down a little, and picked up the pace as you rounded the corner and aimed to stride right by whoever it was. 

“Well if it ain’t the little canary,” a man drawled. You ignored him, moving to step around the vague, dark shape he posed in the alley. He stuck an arm out to block your path and you scowled. 

“I’m just making my way home,” you said with a hint of a warning, glancing at his face. It was the same man you had danced with, now looking like he had finally started hitting the alcohol. You noticed a flask dangling in his other hand and fight the urge to roll your eyes. Whatever it was, you doubted it was of the quality he could’ve enjoyed more back in the bar. 

“Well, boys, y’hear that? She jus’ wants to get home!” He slurred. The men standing behind him laughed - they blocked the way forward fully now. You didn’t think the sound was too friendly, and weren’t going to wait to confirm it. With a swift turn you moved to go back towards the market - and nearly ran into two more men. You fought the urge to swear. 

“Hey, didn’t she seem awfully nosy?” One of the men said to the one you had danced with. There were some noises of agreement from the rest, all sounding like they had been visiting their own flasks too.  
“I think you might be onto something, pal,” the man you had danced with said. Your eyes darted around, looking for a chance to escape. “Seems you asked a buncha questions and wouldn’t let us alone, and then some fuckin’ _demon_ comes and tells us not any time later that we oughta make our way out!” He sneered, and you fought the urge to deck him for the slur against monsters. “I’m thinkin’ I’m a little put out now, girly. Thinkin’ I might need a little, a little…” he waves his hand vaguely, squinting in concentration. 

“Re, uh… recompense?” One of his buddies ventured. The man you had danced with grinned. 

“Yeah, some of that! So, girly,” he continued, straightening up and taking a swig from his flask. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think my pals here ‘n I are gonna get a little payback for the, the, the loss of the night out,” he finished. He gestured with his flask, and two of the men stepped forward, one cracking his knuckles. You shifted your right foot, mentally cursing your bad luck. 

Without any further notice, the men lunged for you as their friends cheered. You stepped to the side, causing one to stumble past you and leaving you in the perfect position to slam the point of your heel into the other’s instep. He howled and jumped backwards, and you caught a glimpse of two holstered guns under his suit jacket as he reached to clutch his foot. You spun and kicked the one who had missed you in the rear, sending him sprawling on the ground with a shout. You hear the man leading the group swear and turn in time to see him push a couple of others towards you. You ducked as one swung at you with an outstretched hand and popped up hard with your arm bent to slam him in the chin with your elbow, sending him crashing back into the leader before the rough fist of the next grunt met your left cheek. You reeled, white flashing across your vision, then turned to run back the way you came. You were caught by your arm, and shouted in pain as you were wrenched backwards and pinned in place by two of the gangsters on either side. 

And they certainly were gangsters. The guns had only confirmed your suspicions, but it was easy enough to see from the way they acted and carried themselves. More than likely, they were part of one of the all-human gangs. You resisted the urge to spit at the feet of the leader as he sauntered close. 

“Got a bit of fire, huh?” He didn’t ask. Another sneer spread across his face as he leaned towards you. “Not gonna get too far in life actin’ too tough, doll.” 

This time you did spit - and you hit him right in the face. You felt the men holding you back tense. The leader straightened up and wiped his face. He passed his jacket to one of the other men, and took the cuff of his shirt and rolled up one sleeve, then the other. 

“You’re gonna regret that. You are gonna regret you fought back, you little-” 

“ _Regate._ ” 

Without a thought you dropped to the ground at the command, wrenching yourself out of the loosened hold of the startled goons. You felt a sudden rush of searing heat above you, and the screams of the gangsters. The leader swore and you heard the sudden clamor of their fleeing. After a moment you moved to sit up, hands throbbing with the impact of your drop. You heard the soft tap of shoes along the alley street and were greeted by the extended flaming hand of Grillby as you turned into a crouch. 

“Thanks, Grillby.” You took his offered hand and he pulled you gently to your feet. Letting go of the warm lick of his flames, you brushed yourself off as you felt him watch you. 

“How did they hurt you?” He crackled. Concern laced through his tone. 

“Not too bad. Peeved that they got kicked out, and I seemed an easy target,” you replied. Your hand went to your cheek, and you winced at the swelling sting. You were already forming a lovely bruise, you were sure. 

Grillby’s hands lifted, and one passed just over your cheek as he inspected the injury. “I can give you something for that,” he said as he straightened again, his flames flickering in sympathy. 

You shook your head. “I’ve got some monster candy for just this sort of thing at home.” It had cost you a pretty penny, but damn if it wasn’t worth it. “Don’t worry too much, Grillby. I knew years ago what it meant to leave the human side of town. Trust me, I’d take a hundred of these if it was the only way I could stay.” 

Grillby stared at you a little longer as you shifted to pat your jacket and glance at the ground, making sure you hadn’t dropped anything in the scuffle. Your eye caught on something glinting on the ground, reflecting Grillby’s fire - near where you had dropped the one man with your kick. 

“You could take one of our offers to walk you home,” he said dryly as you bent to grab the tiny item. 

You waved him off as you stood and inspected it. “I don’t want you all going out of your way like that just for me,” you replied. You missed the small shake of Grillby’s head as you looked at what appeared to be a small golden teardrop. “Hey… looks like part of a pin. You recognize this symbol at all?” You extended your hand towards Grillby, careful with the unprotected pin point on the backside. The flames behind Grillby’s glasses shifted slightly in surprise as he took it from you. 

“ _No puede ser_ …” he murmured, almost too low for you to hear. You lean in, looking at the pin again, as if you could notice something different now. After a moment, he looked back up at you. “What exactly did these men say to you?” 

Your expression shifted thoughtfully. “Honestly, not much. Just that they thought I was being nosy, and implied it might be my fault that they were kicked out.” You shook your head and looked at him apologetically. “Nothing outside of that, really - they had clearly been tipping the flask since coming up. I didn’t even ask more than usual - I’m always careful of that.” 

He nodded, looking back at the pin. Your ability to subtly gather information wasn’t under suspicion, thankfully. 

He stared at the pin for a few moments more, then slipped it into the breast pocket of his white button-down, just behind his glossy vest. “I’ll look into it,” he said. 

You nodded. Trust wasn’t an issue between you. You slip your hands into your jacket pockets, smiling up at your fiery friend. “Thank you again, Grillby. The timing of your break was impeccable.” 

Grillby shifted, looking away as his flames burned a little brighter. “ _De nada_. Be careful on your way home, as I’m sure I will not be able to convince you to be accompanied.” 

You moved to walk back towards the market, having settled on the long way after the persuading events. “You too, Grillby - and you know me well. I hear the wind is supposed to pick up, so bundle up, okay?” 

He nodded in reply, and you waved as he slipped through the back door to head back down to the bar. You looked up at the sky as the door shut soundlessly, staring at the stars you knew he had come to watch on his break. You ignored the dull throb of your hands and the sharper twinge in your cheek, letting the cool night air calm you before making the small trek home. 


	2. Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You felt the cool tingle of pooling magic in your chest and core, and gasped softly as you saw your skin light up with a soft electric blue glow. It raced along the paths of your veins, looking like an intricate lightning bolt of a pattern. You glanced up and saw the monster next to you turned fully now, still leaning on the bar but eyes wide as he looked at you lit up with the magic. His grin had fallen slightly and his gaze met yours, and you felt that flutter in your gut again at the look on his face. You wet your lips subconsciously._

You were in Grillby’s small office dropping off your coat when one of the waiters popped his head in.

“Hey, Grillby wants a word when you’re out,” he said simply. You smiled at him and nodded before he stepped back out. You tucked your things away in the little cabinet he had long since told you to store your things in each night, locked it, and slipped the key into a small pouch on your garter. It never hurt to be safe. You shimmy your skirt back into place, revelling in the lengthier number that brushed the tops of your calves and flared out when you spun. It was a deep crimson with gold detailing, and had a wide neck that showed your collarbone. You looked phenomenal in it, and you knew it.

Grillby’s flames flickered in amused recognition of the dress as you came out of the back. You sat down at the bar, a grin on your face as you remembered the first time you wore it. Someone had gotten a little too touchy-feely and after he ignored your warnings you had kneed him so hard in the groin that he had crumpled to the ground. By the time he could look up, Grillby had walked up behind you to make sure everything was okay, and the man then whispered that he wasn’t sure which of you was the _actual_ fire of _El Fuego Del Alma_.

“Good evening, _fuego pequeña_ ,” he chuckled.

“Hello Grillby,” you replied merrily. “I hear you have something for me?”

He nodded, turning serious. “Regarding the incident last night.”

Your lips settled in a grim line. The monster candy last night had helped, but you were still sporting a deep plum bruise along your cheekbone. It had taken a fair bit of makeup to cover it up - and even still, you couldn’t fully cover it without going cakey.

“There is an associate of the organization who protects _El Fuego Del Alma_ who will be joining us tonight. They’re looking into what happened, so please stay until closing tonight,” he continued. It wasn’t a request, but you knew he wouldn’t ask without reason.

“Absolutely,” you replied. “Is everything alright, though?” You were curious - usually the scuffles of drunken idiots didn’t warrant someone from the Core checking in. Then again… “Wait. Did you find out something about the pin?”

His flames flickered slightly. “Tal vez.”

Your eyebrows raised and you leaned forward. “Any hints?”

A crackling chuckle slipped out of him, and he shook his head. You pretended to pout for a moment before leaning back. “Alright, alright, I get it. Can I at least get a drink, then?”

His flames rolled as he gestured behind him, a silent question. “Surprise me,” you replied.

With a smooth movement, he picked up a rounded glass and several different liquors. You watched as he set to work at his art, twirling the bottles and flipping a few caps behind him only to catch them smoothly. He’s pleased at your impressed laughter, and flickers in pleased amusement when you oooo at the swirl of his fire magic dancing up one of the bottles.

A low whistle interrupts your entranced gaze and you glance to your side. In the stool next to you now sat a monster dressed in a dark charcoal suit, the jacket opened to reveal a blood red shirt and charcoal vest. He wore a matching wide-brimmed charcoal fedora, tilted in a way that obscured his face. He rested his chin on one red-gloved hand, and his other was tucked into the pocket of his pants.

Grillby continued to mix your drink, and you tore your gaze from the monster’s face to keep watching. “... the usual?” Grillby asked, concentration hardly broken.

“you know it,” the monster to your side replied. An involuntary chill ran up your spine - his voice was a low baritone, with just the twist of an accent akin to Grillby’s. “don’t mind me, though. go ahead,” and he gestured lazily to Grillby’s current focus. When he moved his hand, you swore you caught the edge of a grinning skeletal jaw beneath his hat.

Again tearing your eyes back to Grillby, you caught his nod towards the newcomer. He picked up a tiny white bottle next, and let just a drop fall into your drink. It lit up the light blue drink with a glow, and as he handed it to you he gave it a light swirl that spun the glowing liquid with a shimmer.

You took it reverently. “Oh wow, Grillby, is this a new one…?” You turned the glass carefully in your hand, watching the shimmering liquid glow and glisten coolly against your skin.

“Yes, one I’ve been working on,” he replied. You looked up at him, genuine wonder slipping a wide smile onto your features.

“It’s beautiful,” you emphasized, and his flames crackled brightly, pleased. “What does it do?”

At that moment, a customer at the other end of the bar called for Grillby. He turned to go take care of them, and replied to you, “Why don’t you find out?”

Laughing at his challenge, you stared just a little longer at the drink.

“blue’s a nice color on you.”

You’re startled out of your reverie, and you glanced to the monster beside you. He’s tilted his face now, resting his cheekbone on his hand. And it really is his cheekbone, you realized - he is, in every sense of the word, a skeleton.

“Thank you,” you managed, attempting to keep your eyes meeting the gaze of his white pupils - floating lights in his otherwise dark eyesockets. He was grinning broadly, and you tried not to flush as you felt a flutter in your stomach.

Turning back to your drink, you tried to recover. “Grillby’s drinks are always delicious - I’m just always curious about what the magic will do,” you mused.

The skeleton next to you hummed briefly, a low noise of general agreement. He was looking down the bar now.

“Oh, he’ll be back with your drink in a moment,” you said automatically. Grillby would make a few drinks at a time sometimes, providing a bit of a show for newcomers and regulars alike. You then remembered that Grillby had asked him if he wanted ‘the usual,’ and tried not to smack yourself. The monster next to you glanced back down at you.

“i know,” he said simply. You were definitely flushed now. And flustered. You really weren’t used to this happening. Dammit.

To distract yourself - and maybe a little to keep yourself from over-talking to this stranger - you decided to try the drink. With a smooth sip, you did - it was cool and light, and as you exhaled after taking a sip your breath was cloudy and crystalline for a moment, as if you were standing outside on a cold winter morning. You felt the cool tingle of pooling magic in your chest and core, and gasped softly as you saw your skin light up with a soft electric blue glow. It raced along the paths of your veins, looking like an intricate lightning bolt of a pattern. You glanced up and saw the monster next to you turned fully now, still leaning on the bar but eyes wide as he looked at you lit up with the magic. His grin had fallen slightly and his gaze met yours, and you felt that flutter in your gut again at the look on his face. You wet your lips subconsciously.

With a gentle tap, Grillby set a drink down in front of the monster. The skeleton turned back to Grillby smoothly, and you looked away.

“thanks, Grillbz’,” he said, picking up the drink. You recognized it immediately as a magic-infused Bloody Mary. Your eyebrow lifted at his taste - but to each his own. You took another sip of the drink Grillby had given you, and shivered in delight as it’s cool magic trailed through you. The flames behind Grillby’s glasses shifted slightly in question.

“I think you’ve managed to outdo yourself, somehow,” you replied. He chuckled slightly and nodded his head in a thank you. He tipped his head to the other end of the bar where more customers were waiting, and you nodded with a smile and small wave of your hand - he had business to attend to. Oh, but - “Grillby, what’s it called?”

He paused as he walked away. “Winter Glow,” he responded, waiting for your reaction.

“Perfect,” you replied with a bright smile. He nodded before moving away, his flames flickering in a pleased way.

You took another sip of your drink, nearly halfway through it now. Your vision was tinted a light blue, and you actually enjoyed the goosebumps that trail up your arms with the magic. You still had some time before you performed, so you just enjoyed the moment. After a minute your turn your head to regard your companion, who was holding his half-consumed drink and had turned to look out over the room. You had a gut feeling about most people, and you knew he was a decent person - even with the kind of suit most people didn’t have the money to afford. Not in the usual honest way, anyways. “So you’re a savory drink type of guy, then?”

He tilted his face to look at you. His stature wasn’t a tall one, but he was… bulky, in a way. If he was human he would be heavy and clearly muscular, sturdy, but as it was you weren’t quite sure how he filled out his suit quite so perfectly. You chalked it up to magic, as you usually did with monsters.

“... more of a tomato guy, if anything,” he said with a grin. You were starting to get the feeling that the grin was a permanent feature on his face. Was that just a skeleton thing?

You gave him a thoughtful look. “So… when it comes to drinks, you tend to get _saucy?_ ”

He just stared at you. You stared back, determined to hold it out.

Another few moments passed, and you felt a blush starting to creep up your cheeks. Okay, usually you got a reaction by now.

Then, you noticed, his grin had gone a bit wider. He leaned towards you slightly. “well, why did the tomato blush?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You felt your own smile creeping upwards. “Why?”

“he saw the salad dressing.”

Your eyes went wide, and then you were laughing. You nearly doubled over, almost as much at the terrible joke as at the pleased look on the skeleton’s face. He only looked more pleased as you kept laughing, leaning lazily back against the bar counter and lifting his Bloody Mary to his mouth.

You came up for air, stifling further laughs, causing him to pause before taking a drink. “Okay, then - why is a tomato round and red?”

His brow bones pulled down slightly, and he considered you for a moment as he looked away and finished his drink. You kind of wished you could see how he managed it. He set the empty glass on the bar after he finished and asked, “okay, why?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Because if it was long, skinny, and green, it would be a bean.”

He laughed suddenly then, surprising you and himself. It was a brief, deep rumble, and you feel triumphant for some reason. He turned to face you. “oh wow, that was terrible,” he said with a wide grin. “perfect.”

Your cheeks were warm and almost achey with smiling, and your bruise twinged slightly. You took the last sip of your drink to distract yourself as you looked away. The accompanying chill of the glow helped cool your face slightly. You looked out over the room as he had done, still grinning despite yourself. You didn’t see that his eyes stayed on you, tracing the magic rushing through you.

Your eyes shifted to the stage eventually, and you realized that the band was setting up. You bit down on a swear and moved to stand. With an apologetic look, you glanced back at the monster keeping you company. “I have to go to work, sorry to dash off,” you said, ready to step away.

His face leveled from a brief flash of surprise, his standard grin back. “no problem, doll. whatever you do, good luck,” he replied.

“Thanks for the company,” you add with a smile. “It was nice _to-mato_ you.” You wink at him, and before he could reply you stroll away with a little sway to your hips. The surprised laugh you startle out of him is lost in the sound of the crowd, though you felt a sly grin on your lips at the thought of his gaze following you.

Your hips sway all the way to the stage, your posture impeccable and your gaze a little lidded. It was all about your presence, you had learned over the years. The band shuffled and tuned up as you made your way onstage, and there were more than a few cheers and whistles as you made your way to the mic. You blew a kiss to a few of your friends and regulars near the stage, and tapped out the steady, slow beat of the first song as the band behind you readied themselves.

With a sultry smile out towards the audience, you nodded to the band behind you, and the first song began.

_“When you were here before, couldn’t look you in the eye…”_

You leaned into the mic, heart pulling at the song. You slipped both hands along the mic stand as you sung through the first verse and past the chorus, the pianist’s simple accompanying melody twining around your voice as the rest of the band backed you. Your body swayed as you poured yourself into the song.

_“I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control, I want a perfect body…”_

Your eyes are lidded as you skim your gaze across the audience. The voices had become hushed as you went on.

_“... I want a perfect soul.”_

You lean back and pull the mic and stand with you.

_“I want you to notice when I’m not around. You’re so very special, I wish I was special…”_

You felt yourself wanting to look towards the bar, but you stay your gaze and sing on, moving to the beat as you continue. Couples moved in time to the song on the dancefloor as you spun the song’s story along, accompanied by the skilled musicians behind you.

The song ended with a drawn-out set of chords from the piano, and you smile as the audience claps. With little pause, the band picked up the next song, much faster now, and you dove right in.

Throughout your set you did your usual routine of scanning the audience. It was again filled with the usual mix of people from all walks of life, and only one or two caught your eye. At last, over an hour later, your set drew to a close and you took a bright bow and gestured back to the band as people cheered.

“I’ll be back on later tonight, folks - for now, grab your ladies, lads, and everyone outside of that and fill up this dance floor… now, give it up for our band!”

You turned and thanked the band personally with an equally bright smile, and the monsters all raised their instruments or nodded their heads cheerfully at you. You blew them all a kiss before sweeping off the stage.

After a pit stop at the bar for a glass of water from the barhand - Grillby was busy with a large group, you saw - and you glanced down the bar. The skeleton from earlier wasn’t among those on the stools, and with a small frown you realized you didn’t get his name. With a sigh you downed the rest of your water and slid the glass to the barhand with a nod of thanks. You slipped your friendly smile back on your face and made your way out to the crowd.

You stopped by the tables of some of _Del Alma_ ’s regulars, bumping shoulders and sharing a little gossip. The bunny from the stand last night was there with a group of her friends, and you laughed as you were roped into the group’s antics.

“So love, did you hear about our little baker’s tryst?” The heady blush on the baker’s face as her friend gossipped to you had you leaning in with a mischievous glint to your eye.

“Why no, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” you replied, looking at the baker in question.

“Well there was this utter rogue, bit of a cinder, utterly taken in-”

The baker hit the shoulder of her friend lightly with a groan. “For sky’s sake, Ell, don’t make it out to be bigger than it was!”

“Well I get the feeling that you’d like it to be big as well,” you cut in with an impish grin.

A chorus of whoops from the monster women at the table was your cue to leave as your friend’s face burned and she rolled her eyes and gave you a playful glare. You wished her luck with that same impish grin and moved towards the dance floor.

You pulled a particularly fuzzy monster from their seat at the edge of the floor with a smile, and they beamed back at you. You cut into the current song with flair, toning it down only slightly so the monster could have a good time as he worked to lead you. After the end of the song, another monster cut in, and you spun over to her with a playful bow and a thank you to the first one. This was a common occurrence - many of the patrons danced with you every night, and you showed them a good time and often ended up teaching them a few things about dancing as you went.

Moving through partners and dances, you made your way to one of the patrons who had caught your eye from the stage. He was a monster, unidentifiably lizard-like in nature. He accepted your offer to dance with charm, and you danced several songs away with him. In the end, the monster simply seemed like a new face genuinely taking in the sights and sounds of the best speakeasy in the city. You parted ways with him with a smile and an official welcome to _El Fuego Del Alma_.

It had been over an hour of dancing, so once you bowed out you sat down gratefully in an open chair near the dance floor, fanning your face with your hand. Your feet were aching lightly, but another small smile pulled at your face. You really loved your life working here.

“you must be _bone_ tired.”

Your breath hitched in your chest for a split second. You turned to look to your side and found that two chairs down was the skeleton from earlier. He was slouched casually in his chair, one leg crossed to rest his ankle on the thigh of his other leg, one on the back of the chair closer to you. He was looking at you with the same grin from earlier, only one eye visible under the brim of his hat.

You returned the grin impishly. “ _Tibia_ honest, I’m pretty used to it,” you replied, looking back out at the shifting bodies on the dance floor.

He chuckled. The sound sent a shiver up your spine.

“I never got your name earlier,” you said after a pause.

“Sans,” he said simply.

You hum in response. Oddly, it fit.

“... you know, usually the reply to that is your own name,” he said. You turned to look back at him, catching the lift of one of his brow bones.

You laughed. “True - I’m sorry, I’ve gotten used to most people catching my name from my performances,” you said. You gave him your name, and he stared at you for a moment.

“What the matter, _canary_ got your tongue?” You said with a gesture at yourself. He tilted his head a little, and you could see his other eye then - it was closed, as if in a prolonged wink.

“eh, sometimes i just get a little tongue _tied_ ,” he replied, pulling at the dark tie tucked into his vest. You shook your head, laughing openly.

“Oh, that was terrible!”

“hey, they can’t all be good ones,” he said. He didn’t seem to care, from the grin still stretching across his face. You shifted in your seat slightly to look at him, a smile still pulling at your lips.

“So I’m not a gal to pry,” you said, your smile pulling wider at the lie, “but I must say you’ve got me curious - you seem to be a regular, but I’ve never seen you around the joint.” You tilted your head as you look at him, the question on your expression.

“i guess i’m just not the type to draw attention,” he said, looking out over the dancefloor as you had.

“Fair answer, and utter horseshit,” you replied with an easy smile and a crook of your eyebrow. His eyes flickered back to you, his grin perking up in amusement.

“you seem to get a measure of people pretty easily, doll,” he said.

“Call it a gift.”

“i’d wager your voice would be gift enough for most.”

You fought back the flush that nearly flared. “That’s years of practice, more than anything,” you said with a smooth recovery.

He lifted his right hand and flicked up the brim of his hat, cocking it upwards just enough for you to catch the wry upwards tick of his brow bone. “as you put it - horseshit,” he replied. “sure you practice, but you’ve got one hell of a knack for it in the first place.”

You waved him off as you looked away, the flush finally winning out. “And you’ve got a knack for dodging the question,” you said, equally wry.

He chuckled again. “like i said… one hell of a knack.”

You roll your eyes and look back at him with a smile. “I won’t pry, then. I’ve got my eye on you though… Sans,” you said. You punctuated his name with a slow panning of your gaze down his body, catching on the impeccable fit of his suit the whole way. You felt like your plan backfired a little as your face heated further, but you committed and eventually dragged your gaze back up to his. Your heart skipped a bit at the slight way his gaze had narrowed, and at the easy, cocky tilt to his grin.

“i’m sure you can see _right through_ me,” he said.

Your eyes widened for a moment, and then you loudly and unceremoniously snorted.

Your face grew bright as you stared blankly in horror at the slip, and you glanced back at him to see his grin spread in delight, his eyes wide.

“I- I, uh -” you tried to speak, only blushing more furiously as he continued to stare in delight at you. You glanced at the stage, and saw the monsters there resituating themselves. “Oh, hell - I’ve got another set, I’ll, uh-” you stood up quickly, glancing around, anywhere but back at his face. “... I’ll see you later,” you finished lamely. You remembered yourself at the last moment, and shot him an embarrassed smile as you excused yourself as quickly as you could. The mischievous grin on his face burned your cheeks as you strode quickly away towards the stage.

You snagged a glass of water from a passing waiter with an apology and a thank you, and quickly downed the contents at the side of the stage, determinedly staring at the back wall and not out towards the audience… or the dancefloor.

“Everything alright, love?”

You looked up, flush finally starting to fade, and caught the worried look of the pianist - a sweet monster with a floating three-dimensional diamond for a head. You flashed him a put-upon smile and laughed softly.

“Even with all the daily practice in the world, it seems I can still get flustered,” you replied softly. The monster chuckled and leaned back.

“Welcome to the club,” he said. You laughed, setting your glass down on a small side table. With a grounding breath, you climbed the stairs to the stage and moved front and center with an easy smile.

\-------------------------------------------

 

You leaned against the wall from your position on your barstool, legs crossed and your right side propped against the bar. The speakeasy had cleared out at last for the night, the final few groups making their way to the exit with a little help, and the staff was wiping tables and lifting chairs. This spot was your favorite when you wanted to just watch the room; it was the only place where the bar wrapped around to meet the smooth walls - the other side of it open to allow Grillby and the occasional bar staff to walk quickly around to the room or to the kitchen whose entrance was at that end. There was a decent bit of space to the corner of the room from your spot, which is where the booths on the adjacent wall began. You only took up enough space for you, you could see the whole room… and it didn’t hurt that Grillby and the bar were at your fingertips.

“One dark coffee… of the Irish variety.”

You looked to your right as Grillby gently placed an aromatic drink near your hand. The mug was a dark slate, smooth and warm to the touch. You sighed happily as you turned to face him and cradled it in your hands.

“I’d ask if there was any drink you couldn’t make impeccably, but I already know that the answer to that is no,” you said with a grateful look at the flaming bartender. His flames danced in a chuckle.

“You’re too kind, _pájarito_ ,” he said, picking up a glass to polish. They were always spotless, but you kind of loved that about him. He had, of course, already cleaned the bar to a shine.

“No, I’m honest,” you replied, blowing lightly on the drink. Carefully, you took a gentle sip. The full-bodied feeling of magic slipped through you and warmed your core. It was perfect. “Skies above, Grillby, did you put a little dark chocolate in this?”

“We’ve been trying out a new special batch,” he replied. You knew he meant the chocolate itself was magic - and it must have been worth every substantial gold coin. It was smooth and rich and had just the right amount of bite.

“If I get to have this whenever I stay late, then count me in,” you replied earnestly.

“then you’re more of an _early bird_ , usually?”

For the third time that evening, you turned your head to look towards the source of the voice. Standing behind the stool to your left was Sans, one hand in his pocket as he looked at you with a grin. You fought the instinctive flush from your embarrassment earlier and shake your head with a self-deprecating grin in silent response.

“Much as I appreciate the continued bird references,” you gesture to yourself, “I’m afraid Grillby’s just cleaned up shop for the night, Sans.” You glance at Grillby for confirmation.

You were taken by surprise when instead Grillby gestured to the seat next to you. “The usual?” He asked, echoing the question he had asked earlier that night. Your eyebrows raised.

“just the bottle for now.”

You watched, confused, as Grillby turned and reached into a back cabinet. Wasn’t that where he kept the…

“... Ketchup?” you said slowly, watching as Grillby placed the condiment in front of Sans. Sans stayed standing, and his gaze flickered to you as he took the bottle, popped the cap, and lifted it to his mouth. Your eyes widened in alarm as he tipped it back, angling his face away from you just enough to where you couldn’t see his mouth. When he set it back down, almost a third of the ketchup was gone.

You simply stared at him, your mouth hanging open. You felt like a strange mix of horror and disgust was on your face, but he simply grinned lazily at you.

After a few moments, you snapped your mouth closed. To each his own, you tried to tell yourself, but an involuntary shudder went through you as you took another sip of your coffee.

“So I see you’ve met,” Grillby said after he picked up a glass again. You look at him, curious, then back at Sans. He was holding the ketchup bottle, which was now half empty. Realization dawned over you.

“Wait, you mean-”

Grillby nodded. “This is Sans, from… the organization.”

From the Core, he meant. The monster mafia.

You looked at Sans, who eyed you. “nice _to-mato_ you again, doll,” he said, tipping the ketchup towards you as he echoed your earlier pun back at you. You huffed a laugh despite yourself.

“A regular, indeed,” you said, eyeing him with a brow up. The suit’s quality made a lot of sense now - the Core was a well-dressed organization. “Bit of a late-night customer, usually?”

He grinned back at you. “you wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied.

Looking back at Grillby, you straightened slightly but maintained a fairly comfortable pose as you resumed sipping your coffee. You waited for him to begin.

“As I mentioned over the phone, she was the one who found the pin,” Grillby said, nodding at you. Your memory flashed back to the small, golden teardrop you had found on the ground. With a grimace, your fingertips ghosted over the faint bruise left on your cheek. You felt Sans’ eyes on you, but you kept looking at Grillby. “It would seem one of the men had dropped it,” he continued.

“how can you be sure?” Sans asked. His voice was casual, almost lazy. You felt yourself breathe out a sardonic laugh. He shifted to look at you, brow bone up.

Grillby shook his head. “She put up more of a fight than they believed _una mujer bonita_ would.” Sans expression shifted, now looking vaguely impressed.

“what happened?” Sans asked, addressing you this time.

You swirled your coffee, looking into the distance as you spoke. “Well, it was a bunch of human men - pills, really, and I had figured out that they were a fishy bunch. Probably scouts, at worst.” As you spoke, Sans face lifted in question at your methods, but you ignored it. “When I got out for the night, I decided to cut through the alley - my heels were killing me, and that way cuts my walk home down by almost half. Not the brightest choice, I know,” you waved at Grillby’s face flickering disapprovingly. “In any case, I rounded the first corner and there they were. The leader of the bunch was drunk - they all were - and they started blaming me for getting kicked out.” You grinned despite yourself at this. “Not that they were entirely wrong. But hey, not my fault they were an obvious bunch of sharks. Anyways, they blocked me off and the leader sic’d some of his goons on me, flashing some heat at their hips - clearly from one of the human mobs. I let them know that I didn’t appreciate their attitude,” you said with a shrug and an innocent smile. “One of them was acquainted with my foot, and I sent him sprawling on the ground. I think he’s the one who dropped the pin,” you concluded.

Sans was looking at you, an unreadable expression on his skull. You held his gaze, not about to back down. “how did you get away?” he asked eventually.

You gestured to Grillby with a smile. “My knight in flaming armor came up for his break right when things were looking tough,” you said. “Thank you again, Grillby. You kept this-” you gestured to your cheek- “from becoming a lot harder to powder over.”

Grillby nodded back, serious. He looked at Sans. The skeleton lazily spun the ketchup bottle against the bar counter, now only a quarter full, and he was looking thoughtfully at you. Finally, he held the bottle still, and looked at you levelly.

“the pin’s from the human mafia - the big one,” he said simply. You grimace, but that had already been your suspicion at this point. You doubted someone from the Core would come in otherwise.

“ _Il Sangue_ ,” you said. He nodded. Grillby had stopped cleaning the glass, and had placed both his palms on his side of the bar. His flames burned a deep crimson and ocher. He was serious.

“What should we expect?” Grillby asked. Sans hummed a single tone deep in his chest and glanced at you.

“for now, we want eyes out. let us know if you see anyone else with that pin,” he said. You nodded. “you can just let Grillby know, but we may be here a little more often if the boss sees fit,” he continued.

“Is there anything else I should keep an eye out for on them?” You asked, setting your coffee down.

“so far, the pins and the fact that they’re humans is the main common factor.”

“And the fact that they’re monsterphobic _pendejos_ ,” you said, only mostly under your breath. Grillby crackles in a chuckle, and the amused grin returned to Sans face.

“i gotta say, i like your moxie, _chispita_ ,” Sans said. You looked up at him at the nickname, and he slipped a hand to rub at the back of his neck and looked away. You laughed after a moment, though, and he looked back down at you.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard something like that,” you admitted. Grillby shook his head in amused agreement as Sans laughed, loud and open. You grinned.

“we’ll be in touch,” Sans said, grinning down at you and nodding at Grillby. You turned to watch him go, only to see him pause after taking a step back. You felt a whisper of magic brush across your shoulders, and Sans winked lazily at you. You look back to your coffee with a roll of your eyes. You felt the brush of magic again, and looked back to say something to Sans.

He was gone.

Grillby chuckled at the look of confusion on your face as you looked around the nearby area, unable to find the skeleton. You glanced back at Grillby as he moved to put the glass he had abandoned earlier back in its place.

“Am I just unobservant, or did he disappear…?” You ventured, eyes darting back to the spot Sans had been in only seconds prior.

“He knows a few shortcuts,” Grillby said simply. You furrowed your brow at him, and turned to look behind you again as you sipped at your cooling coffee. The magic hit you and pooled warm in your belly, a welcome distraction from the flurry of confusion and intrigue that was buzzing in your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay so I caved and posted this second chapter in less than a day. What can I say, I wanted you all to get the chance to meet Sans ;) Not gonna lie, I edited this chapter a dozen times, trying to make sure Sans stayed in character while also reflecting the influence of the AU and the five years he's spent on the surface. Fingers crossed that you all like it so far, oof.
> 
> Okay, _now_ I'll start sticking to the weekly updates! As always, I love to hear your feedback, and I am so pumped that you're liking it so far! Our little Reader doesn't know what's coming - wish her luck...
> 
> ///Oh, I want to clarify! The song Reader is singing earlier is Karen Souza's jazzy cover of _Creep_ by Radiohead. She's not just singing the original version, haha.


	3. Tangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Watch out for the blood,” you warned._

You found yourself almost hoping to catch the glint of a golden drop as you scanned the audience as the week passed.

Each night you sung to the audience, pulling on classics and newer choices alike that you had rehearsed with the band. Each night your eyes roved the audience, picking out newcomers to check on, regulars you should greet, and the occasional shifty figure you wanted to keep an eye on. The week was proving uneventful, however, and you were both relieved and vaguely disappointed. 

The fifth night, you caught a skeletal grin near the bar as you sung, and nearly missed your entrance. You flashed a smile and a wink to closer members of the audience to recover before pulling the mic close and catching your first note. Partway through the song you glanced back at the bar and saw Sans speaking with Grillby. His gaze flickered over to you, and you smiled at him before forcing your eyes to move back over the rest of the room.

At the end of your set you made your way to the bar as usual and slipped onto the only open stool - the one next to Sans.

“How’s it going, Sans?” You asked as you waved at Grillby down the bar. He nodded at you, a promise to be by in a moment. 

Sans looked over at you with his usual grin, a nearly finished Bloody Mary held loosely in one gloved hand. “honestly, it’s been a  _ top shelf _ kind of night so far,” he said with a nod to the display of magical liquors stretching behind the bar. You laughed, bright and warm.

“Good to hear you haven’t been too  _ bordeaux, _ ” you said, with a small point to the glass of wine a human woman was draining next to you. His chest huffed out in a silent chuckle, his pinprick white pupils bright and focused on you.

“any news?” He asked softly, leaning down towards you, resting his elbows casually on the bar top. His words weren’t quite a whisper, but they were low and meant just for you. You all but mimicked his posture with an easy smile, pretending to be occupied with watching Grillby pour drinks a little ways down.

“Not a  _ glint _ ,” you said softly. You felt Sans’ eyes on you as you smiled at Grillby beginning to make his way down to you.

“What can I get you,  _ mija _ ?” Grillby asked as he drew close. “Sans,” he added in greeting.

“you really have a way with words,” Sans said with his usual grin. His gaze finally shifted from you.

Grillby’s flames flickered in a laugh. “Would you like another?” Grillby asked, gesturing to the now-empty glass in Sans’ hand.

“no, but thanks,” Sans said, placing it on the bar. You hadn’t even seen him finish it. “i’ve got a few errands to run before i head back.” He glanced at you with a grin, then back at Grillby. He winked. “put mine on my tab.”

Grillby crackled - you recognized it as something as close to a groan as he ever came. “ _ Si, si, _ ” Grillby waved him off. Sans chuckled and stood up. 

“Make sure when you leave…” You said, a little slow. Sans looked down at you, brow bones lifted. “... make sure you call the right  _ shots _ ,” you finished, grinning mischievously.

You’re rewarded with a laugh as Sans pocketed his hands in his pants, a look of thrilled delight on his face.

“you just keep raisin’ the  _ bar _ ,” he said with a knock on the counter by your elbow. You winked at him in teasing challenge, and he walked away with a glint to his eye. He slipped into the crowd and you lost sight of him. Unable to shake the smile, you turned back to the bar and catch Grillby shaking his head at your continued wordplay.

“Such a bad influence,” he said, mostly joking. You toss him a wink as well, and made your drink request at last.

\----------------------------------------

Your heels clacked against the smooth paving of the sidewalk as you strode towards the heart of the monster entertainment district. A bit of a swing was in your step as you hummed a mesh of the music you had just been rehearsing with  _ El Fuego Del Alma’s _ resident band, and you were excited for your first full night off in a long time. It didn’t hurt that you were still feeling the high of rehearsing a new original that had been a hit with the staff at the speakeasy preparing for the night’s business. 

You passed the enormous concert hall built, owned, and largely performed in by the famous Mettaton, and a smile pulled at your face as you passed the enormous advertisement he had for his latest one-robot star-crossed drama extravaganza performance.

The cinch of your trenchcoat hugged the simple yet stylish dress you had donned for the occasion , and your petticoat added a bit of flair that you knew would be appreciated by the monster you were about to meet up with.

Past a handful of eclectic bookstores and hole-in-the-wall boutiques catering to the less humanlike monsters, you arrived at your destination. You stepped inside the bakery and the chime of a small bell announced your entrance. Cute, French-style cafe décor complemented the almost decadent bakery. You stepped up to the counter to greet the girl facing away from you behind the counter.

“Long time no see, Mimi,” you said. The toothy monster twirled around to face you from where she had been stocking croissants. Her hands flew to her face and she squealed your name.

“Oh my gosh, it's been  _ too  _ long!” She said, joy clear on her face. You laughed in delight at her excitement – you had missed the unbridled energy of the monster girl. Her face was mostly teeth, but she managed to look sweet and trustworthy despite this – assisted no doubt by the appropriately French-style, dangerously maid-like outfit she wore. There was a reason the owner of the bakery had hired her, for sure.

“At least a year, right?” You mused. She shook her in head in mock disappointment.

“I need to hear all the latest! We've been missing you so sorely,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “But I know that the Miss is waiting for you. Allow me,” she said with a smile. She walked around the counter and held open a stained-glass door adorned with an intricate sign warning that restrooms were for paying customers only. She directed you towards the revealed back hallway. “Restroom is on the left,” she added with a wink. You winked back at her and made your way down the hallway.

Ignoring the single bathroom on the left, you made your way further down the hallway and around a nearly hidden corner. You knocked five times in a slight pattern on the door labeled “office.” A moment passed, then the door swung open. You stepped into the dim lighting and heard the door click behind you.

“Welcome back,  _ mademouiselle _ ,” a rich voice greeted you. You dipped in a brief curtsy to the imposing figure of a tall, oozing monster woman. You smiled up at her.

“Beautifully looming as always,” you complimented. The woman laughed, and gestured down the short hall. You approached the rich curtain blocking the arch at the end and slipped through it.

The sound of light instrumental jazz crested over you as you entered the room. The spelled curtain shifted back into place behind you as you glanced around the room. It was set up as a beautiful, permanently twilit garden patio with an arching greenhouse-like roof. The indoor patio was decorated with cafe furniture that matched the bakery out front. A small band played in front of a fountain, and twinkling cobwebs with dangling lights were spun overhead. A small bar was off to one side, clearly set to serve not only alcohol but the usual cafe drink and food. In the back of the room on a raised stone platform partially obscured by rich topiary was seated a decadently dressed spider woman. You smiled and made your way over.

“Hello, Muffet,” you greeted as you stepped into her protected area. You tapped a gentle greeting to several of the spiders waiting on her in the plants at the edge of the patio, and grinned as you saw several of them wave a leg in enthusiastic response.

Muffet herself sat enthroned behind the only table there, sipping from a beautiful and no doubt one-of-a-kind tea set. She smiled wider at your approach and set her cup down.

“Dearie, how lovely it is to see you after so long!” She said with a giggle, extending one of her hands towards you. You were well-used to the eerie sound, and pressed a small kiss to her hand. She gestured to the chair next to her and you took a seat.

“It really has been too long,” you said ruefully. “It's been so hard to match our schedules up in recent months.”

Muffet rolled her many eyes and giggled. “More like you've become such a hot commodity at your new speakeasy that you hardly have the time for me anymore,” she said.

You waved her off with a good-natured eye roll of your own. “You know I would never put you off in such a way,” you said. “My residency had already been going so well, and now they have me performing most nights – and I have to come up with and rehearse new material during the day to make that work.”

Muffet nodded in acquiescence. “Very true. And I'm happy for you,” she said, a twinkle in her eye as you handed a small pouch clinking with coins to a waiting spider. As the spider scuttled off, a small group of them descended from the ceiling with a rich platter of pastries and a steaming cup of cider.

You winked at her when you noticed her gaze. Friends or not, her code never wavered.

“And I'm happy for you! I see you've been attracting a number of new customers,” you said with a genuine smile and a small gesture towards the patrons of her cafe. While still largely monsters, quite a few humans were in the mix as well, shelling out quite a lot of money for the admittedly excellent fare.

Muffet smiled slyly in reply, a twinkle in several of her eyes. “Yes, well, a spider bake sale is hard to walk away from,” she said. It must have been happenstance that the intricately woven web decorating the space behind her sparkled just menacingly right as she spoke.

You shook your head, taking a sip of the fresh spider cider. A small part of you still felt that hint of dread at the thought of its ingredients, but years had passed since your first taste of Muffet's baked goods and crafted drinks and mostly you were enamored with the spicy sweetness of the drink and the warm buzz of magic refreshing you to your core. You both gazed out over the cafe for a short while, taking in the sight of couples and small groups of friends chattering amongst the music. There wasn't much of a dancefloor in Muffet's back room, but with more of a cafe feel it wasn't surprising.

“I don't suppose you'd be willing to come back for a one-time show,” Muffet mused. You looked back to find her eyes focused on you while one set of hands stirred a lump of sugar into a fresh cup of tea.

“I do miss singing here,” you replied, fond nostalgia in your heart. Muffet was the first one to offer you more than a one-night gig, over a year after you had left the human side of town. You had started by singing once a week, and as your popularity grew Muffet had asked for you to perform multiple times a week. The pay had soon allowed you to get your first decent apartment, small as it was. “I'll see if I have an afternoon out soon,” you promised. Muffet smiled at you fondly – a rare sight. You had wondered early on if you were more an exotic collection item for her, and more than once her strange cupcake-spider pet had been suddenly breathing down your back and you had caught her laughing openly when you jumped and screamed. Still, something about spending many long evenings together had drawn you together, and you had started proving your great eye for less trustworthy customers – saving her a great deal of trouble and a greater deal of gold.

Your reminiscing was interrupted as a spider dropped down from above, dangling on a small piece of web as it held out a silver pocketwatch for Muffet to check. “Ah, it looks like it's time! Come now, dearie, we have a date to keep!” She stood up gracefully, her silk dress puffing and flaring elegantly as she waved off the spider with the watch. You rose with her and smiled at the spiders that came to collect your now empty cup and plate. She whispered something to a group of spiders at one side, and they rose back to the shimmering web above as she nodded at you. “The cafe is in excellent hands,” she said simply.

You nodded back. “Let's not keep him waiting, shall we?” You said, offering Muffet your arm. She took it with a giggle, and you two slipped out a back exit tucked along the rear wall of her patio.

\-------------------------------------------------------

The clamor of the speakeasy was all but deafening, and you were all but at the center of it.

Muffet had slyly slipped away to the bar to sweet talk - and perhaps threaten, it was always a bit of a blend with her - her way into a fresh set of drinks. The three of you had already finished your first round as you had caught up with the latest happenings in your lives. Muffet certainly had the coin to pay for the next round; she just happened to enjoy not paying for things. That left you waiting at the side of an extraordinarily popular robot, whose earlier doting theatrics while you spoke had drawn the notice of much of the bar. He was now unsurprisingly being swarmed by a mob of human and monster fans alike, trapping you next to him.

“Darlings, you simply  _ must  _ attend my next show to get the full experience,” he was saying with a charming drawl. You hid a smile behind one hand as he said this. The group all clamored in agreement, and no one seemed to notice the fact that he hadn’t offered free tickets - he had simply told them to come. He truly had a way with the masses.

“Mettaton, it looks like our order’s up,” you cut in smoothly, nodding towards the private booth Muffet was now sitting at, waving one hand at them with her usual eerie smile while several of her others gestured towards where the barhand should place the drinks… and apparently where he should set the number of special dishes she had procured as well. The barhand was a clearly flustered, younger human man who was flushed and kept bowing towards Muffet.

“Well I couldn’t possibly keep you lovely ladies waiting,” Mettaton replied to you before looping one of his smooth, metallic arms through yours and guiding you towards Muffet. “Ta-ta, darlings!” He added in goodbye over his shoulder, waving towards the simultaneously disappointed yet elated group of fans. Many attempted to follow, but you had stepped into the small VIP area of the speakeasy and a rather enormous monster that had let you in now blocked their way. You sighed in relief.

“One must always be ready for the dear fans,” Mettaton said brightly in response to your sigh. You let him slide gracefully into the central most area of the circular booth, following him to sit on the outer edge with Muffet directly across from you.

“My fans are a little less  _ desperate _ , thankfully,” you responded with a shake of your head. 

“Nonsense, my dear - I’ve seen the way they come clamoring for a dance with you after your sets,” he replied, his visible eye flashing slyly has he lifted a spelled liquor and oil mixture to his mouth. 

“Yes, he wouldn’t have taken you from me otherwise,” Muffet added, sipping at her deep crimson cocktail and sampling a few of the strange appetizers between you. She smiled, but her eyes flashed almost dangerously. You declined to reply, both pleased at the flattery and knowing better than to tread into this argument.

“Well I simply have to have the best for  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ ,” Mettaton replied with a bright laugh. “And since I’m busy performing for the public in less illegal circumstances-”

“Usually,” you slipped in, a knowing twitch to your smile. Muffet giggled, and Mettaton flashed you a slightly darker smile.

“ _ Normalmente, _ ” he acquiesced. “In any case, I perform largely for the law-abiding and darker publics alike now, so I can’t be there to entice our customers to stay longer and become further enticed to keep visiting our fiery bartender… I couldn’t allow anyone unworthy to take the stage in my absence.”

You were blushing fully now, trying to focus on the drink Muffet had procured for you - a shimmery amber cocktail that tasted of ginger and spices. Definitely not as good as a drink from Grillby, but not bad either. Something in the taste caught your attention.

“So they’re getting their mixes from our preferred avenue now, too?” You said, gesturing to the speakeasy and referring to the Core’s supply routes in an effort to get the focus off of you. Muffet’s many eyes glittered as she joined you in looking out over the speakeasy. It wasn’t as grand as  _ del Alma _ , and its decor was a little heavy-handed for your tastes, but it had a good atmosphere and decent magical fare. You also were a bit nostalgically fond of it - you had performed at many of its open mic nights before Muffet had scouted you for her cafe… from this very speakeasy, in fact.

Mettaton’s response pulled you out of your thoughts. “Yes, I believe there has been some marked success with newer methods of distribution,” he mused. “I always love to know the juicy details, but the delivery boys won’t tell me much.”

You nodded. You had caught Mettaton in his attempts to get information more than once. You had left just as quickly, your cheeks significantly hotter than they had been. Muffet simply giggled.

“They’ve had a steadier stream at the cafe as well,” she said, clearly pleased. “The quality has only been improving, too.”

You leaned in, even more curious. “How can you tell?” 

Mettaton finished off his oil cocktail with a thoughtful look. “Yes, I suppose it would be harder for a human to detect…”

Muffet nodded, passing you some sort of appetizer involving savory meats. You accepted it, knowing better than to decline. “Dearie, you understand how the mixes provide different effects, yes?”

“Naturally,” you replied. Even humans could make magical mixed drinks if they had enough variety in their magical alcohols, but monsters could pull out the effects to their true extent and add to them in new and fascinating ways. Grillby made the  _ best  _ drinks, and had the finest and most delicious variety.

“Well the base alcohol is magical,” she continued. You nodded, knowing that much. “Higher quality magical alcohol is not only better quality alcohol, but better infused with  _ magic _ . It will hold onto it’s infused characteristics better, and have fewer… unexpected side effects.”

You bit at your lip, remembering the time a year ago when  _ del Alma _ had apparently received a bad batch. In the end, the effects of the drinks had simply… not gone away.  _ All night _ . It had been a long one indeed, as anyone under the influence of any of the drinks - in other words,  _ everyone _ \- hadn’t been allowed to leave. The implications of a speakeasy’s worth of patrons wandering the town emitting the signs of magic on top of general drunkenness were less than pleasurable.

You shuddered a little at the memory - to keep everyone entertained, you had performed much of the night and well into the early hours of the morning, both singing for and dancing with the customers. Grillby had needed to refresh you with non-alcoholic magic drinks a number of times throughout the night. 

Mettaton picked up on your recollection. “As you can guess, higher quality magical alcohol is in something of a pressing demand,” he said shrewdly. “Thankfully, we partner with only the best.”

You nodded with a small smile dancing on your face as you thought of the group that provided  _ del Alma _ with it’s magical alcohol and base food… and a measure of protection. For a price, of course. 

The Core had always been a mysterious group, and until recently you had usually only seen various underlings and lower members in passing when you occasionally came in for a rehearsal while a delivery was in progress.

Now, you had a steady face that you associated with the group - one that kept that smile pulling at your features.

You turned your face towards the rest of the speakeasy. The band had struck up a somewhat faster tune, and you found your foot tapping to it as you watched the dance floor fill with eager bodies. Music pulsed in your soul. You had always found yourself affected by most driving beats. With a sly grin, you turned back towards your friends. “What do you say we show this joint what it really means to cut it on the floor?” You suggested with a mischievous quirk to your lips.

“My dear, they won’t know what hit them,” Mettaton replied, matching your look devilishly. You both looked at Muffet, who answered by standing up from the booth and looking back at you.

“Ahuhuhu~ what are you waiting for, dearies?”

You slipped out of the booth and linked arms with her as Mettaton followed you. He extended one leg with flare, posing as if it was the most natural thing in the world as his fans took notice of you all leaving your booth. Truthfully, it really  _ was _ the most natural thing for him. With a laugh, you slipped your arm through his and the three of you made your way to the dance floor, a sway matching in all your hips.

The fans of Mettaton followed, and the dance floor quickly became packed as the band picked up on the mood and kept the songs driving and swinging. Mettaton danced with his natural flair, not needing a partner and looking fabulous while doing so. You danced with Muffet at the start, your moves synchronizing as those not distracted by Mettaton whistled and clapped. Your feet were quick and Muffet had no trouble matching you, and you picked up on her quick spins and matched them well in turn. She smirked playfully and took your hands in two of hers, and lead you in quick, complicated circles around the dancefloor. You allowed yourself to be led, and worked agile cuts around a number of couples and groups with ease, delight and exertion lighting up your face. The magic of your earlier drink pooled warmly in you and gave you the energy to dance the night away, even on your night off. 

You danced with a number of strangers and even Mettaton eventually. You took the compliment as it was meant to be when he swept up your hand to scoop his, letting you lead him. He made a number of flashy twirls and again proved himself as one of the few that you really had to concentrate on to match the high level of dancing skill. 

After he twirled away from you, you spun to catch the eye of a new partner as a new song picked up. Your eyes skimmed the crowd for a good candidate.

After a moment, your eyes fell on a group of human men crowding a table situated at the edge of the dancefloor, nursing barely-touched drinks. One of them looked askance for a moment, then slipped a flask from his jacket, poured some of the shimmering alcohol from his glass into it, then quickly screwed the flask shut and slipped it back into his jacket. He picked up the drink immediately after and held the rim of the glass near his mouth, as if he was sipping at it. A moment later, he turned his face, and his gaze fell on you. You spun away immediately as if mid-dance, heart beating wildly, and cursed low under your breath at the spark of recognition between you.

The man was the leader of the lackey group from  _ Il Sangue _ who had caught you in the alleyway last week. 

You quickly made your way towards Muffet, who had just been passed a new drink by another eager and enamored barhand. You stepped next to her, facing the opposite direction, and slipping a casually entertained look on your face you leaned slightly towards her to ensure your whisper was heard.

“There’s an infiltration. Slip out, as soon as you can.”

She carefully didn’t look at you, instead giggling at a passing human’s dancing tactics. You caught the slight nod of her head. The hand from her lowest arm brushed over your wrist in acknowledgement, and you turned and made your way back onto the dancefloor with a natural wave back towards her, face at seeming ease with a practiced smile.

You caught a glimpse of her easy movement through the crowd towards the exit as you managed to reach the group around Mettaton. With a little practiced force, you danced your way through the tight crowd around him and gave him a peck on the cheek and took him for a brief spin. As you did so, you leaned in close to his cheek and whispered once again.

“Infiltration. Slip out, quickly.” You finished the spin by dipping him slightly, and he posed dramatically to the cheers of his fans. You lifted him and smiled. More loudly, “I believe I need a drink - can I get you anything?”

He responded with a wave and rested his other hand across his forehead. “Alas, my dear, an early morning means I must bid a sad farewell now,” he said, despair sounding true in his voice. 

You smile and feign sadness, and made your quick goodbyes before fighting your way back through the dance floor. Mettaton left with almost surprising quickness, long an expert at navigating through his fans. 

Maintaining your best effort at natural ease and slight inebriation, you made your way to the bar. From the corner of your eye, you caught the movement of a few suited human men making their way towards you. You also caught that the table the mob members had been occupying was now filled with a different group. 

But you couldn’t leave, not without tipping off the bartender. You’d do it even for a strange monster, but this was one you knew.

You stepped up to the bar, slipping between a gossiping pair and ignoring their protests.

“Angel,” you said, voice low. The monster that had been cleaning up a spill on the back counter turned around, her tucked, webbed wings fluttering lightly in recognition at your voice. She was small and dark, with glowing, crystalline beetle eyes. She smiled at the sight of your face.

“Well if it isn’t-!” She began, delight crossing her face before it switched to concern when you leaned in and knocked twice in quick succession on the bar’s surface - an old signal.

“Watch out for the blood,” you warned. Her eyes darkened, and you caught the flash of her fangs. A quick nod from her was all you needed, and you returned it. You patted one hand briefly on the counter in goodbye, and flashed her an apologetic grimace. She shook her head with a wry grin and made a shooing motion at you.

Without delaying any further, you strode away from the bar and made your way to the exit. You had to duck through a few drunken groups as you caught the mob men looking around, searching for something - for you - but were able to grab your coat from the small VIP check and made your way past the strongarm at the door and out of the speakeasy without them catching sight of you again.

The streets were fairly empty at this hour, and you pulled your trenchcoat close around you. You walked quickly down the sidewalk - not towards your apartment, but towards  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ .

It was your bad luck that you rounded the next streetcorner and strode right into one of the mob men. 

“Shit,” you said.

“ _ You, _ ” he snarled. You recognized him as the one whose instep you had nearly crushed. 

You spun to run in the opposite direction, but he grabbed your elbow and pulled you back towards him. His fist connected with your eye in the same movement, and you stumbled away with the impact. He came at you again and without glancing up you shot out an elbow and felt it connect with his chin. You heard a crack and he swore vehemently. You kicked out your leg as he lifted his hands to his jawline and felt viciously satisfied when you heard something alarmingly akin to a  _ crunch _ when you met your target directly between his legs. He dropped like a rock and you didn’t wait for him to recover. 

You took off at a sprint down the street. After crossing the street and rounding another corner, you ducked into an alleyway at a gut instinct. You crouched behind a pile of junk somebody had abandoned there just as you heard a pair of men run past, distant pained shouting apparently guiding them past you.

You pressed a hand to your chest, willing the wild beat of your heart to slow as you planned your route with a grimace and a blooming black eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlikely friends, perhaps? But hilariously fitting, I think. I'd love to hear your thoughts~
> 
> I've been excited all week to bring you this chapter! I've been setting up a lot of things, and have been working to bring in more characters, and want to keep things moving... poor Reader, can't catch a break for long. Sorry/not sorry, heh.
> 
> ... honestly, I've got the next chapter done as well, and am adding the finishing edits. I'm pretty tempted to post it early, buuuut maybe I should wait? Hmmm.
> 
> Can't wait to bring you more, either way! I love hearing from you all - you're keeping me determined to write this story even more. Thank you so much for your kudos, bookmarks, and comments! <3


	4. Chosen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You looked up, hands splayed on his chest and a frustrated and embarrassed flush on your cheeks. Your apology was already tumbling from your lips before your brain had caught up with what your body had definitely figured out. “I’m sorry, I was just-” and your voice died as you looked into Sans’ eyes._

You inhaled sharply through your teeth as you nearly stumbled and twisted your ankle. Biting hard on your lip, you kept walking and made your way down the sloping corridor to the true entrance of  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ .

Your adrenaline had long run dry, and the simple magic from your earlier drinks hadn’t lasted much longer. It had taken you nearly three times as long as it should have to get here as you tried to stick to back alleyways and avoid any further run-ins. Your black eye had all but swollen shut, and a pained grimace had settled on your face.

You reached an apparent dead end, a brick wall partially blocked by some miscellaneous wooden crates and debris scattered about. You stepped around it and knocked out a quick pattern on the wall, followed by an easy whistle. A few moments passed, and the wall swung inwards. You stepped through, moving slightly to the side as it swung closed behind you.

“Hold on, girly, let me check you-” a small flaming figure stood perched on a stool cut himself off as his eyes caught proper sight of you. “Holy stars,” he breathed out.

“I need to speak to Grillby, Heats,” you said, voice low.

“Of course, of course! Are you…?” He replied quickly, voice spiking before he caught himself. 

You shook your head and huffed out a chuckle. “I’m something. I’ll be fine, though.” 

He nodded and made a few short gestures, and a lock clicked in the hewn stone doors in front of you. You nodded in thanks and pushed your way through.

The night was in full swing. The band was playing instrumentally for a throng of patrons on the dance floor, and many of the tables were full of cheerful and only slightly rowdy customers. You kept along the back wall, walking down the aisle between the semi-circle booths along the wall and the round tables of the open floor. Your eyes skimmed your route, and you let your hair shift slightly, hoping that the dark lighting of the room and your quick stride would keep anyone’s gaze from lingering on you or your rough appearance.

You didn’t catch anyone suspicious, but as you made your way towards the bar on the side your eyes caught on a pair at a booth. One’s back was to you, someone in a suit with a charcoal fedora cocked at an angle. Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept walking. They faced a deeply blue fish woman with crimson red hair pulled tight behind her. She held a glass of a deep oaken alcohol loosely in one hand, the other gesturing in conversation. Your ears caught the cadence of rapid Spanish. Her eyes shifted to you as if sensing your gaze. Her eye narrowed for a moment - you could only see the one, the other appeared to be covered by an eyepatch - then it widened, and she glanced at her companion and nodded slightly towards you, her lips moving. 

Just as you passed their table, trying to tear your eyes away, Sans turned and caught your gaze. His expression was of lazy surprise and his usual grin was spread on his face. As you kept walking with a flash of an apologetic, just-got-caught grin, his eyes shifted slightly to focus on your eye that was nearly swollen shut. You wondered briefly if it looked as bad as it felt. Judging from the way his eyes narrowed and his grin dropped, you had a feeling it did.

You tore your eyes away, though, and kept walking towards the bar. Loyalty was utmost in this age - this did involve Sans, and you were sure you’d be speaking with him shortly so it was definitely good he was already here, but you had to give Grillby the heads up first. He ran the operations of  _ del Alma _ in the day-to-day, even if Mettaton had a large share in the speakeasy on the entertainment side. You scowled when you saw that Grillby was busy mixing what must be a large number of drinks for a huge crowd at the far corner of the bar. You’d have to wait a few minutes before you could speak to him.

Your pace slowed slightly as you got closer to the bar, and that was a positive shift in your luck; you were so distracted in your thoughts that you ran headfirst into a sturdy figure that had been in your new blindspot.

“steady there,” a deep, familiar voice said as the monster reached down to steady you before you could stumble and fall. He had to reach out quickly, and his hand caught your arm and tugged you back upright and into him. 

It really was not your day for not crashing into people.

You looked up, hands splayed on his chest and a frustrated and embarrassed flush on your cheeks. Your apology was already tumbling from your lips before your brain had caught up with what your body had  _ definitely _ figured out. “I’m sorry, I was just-” and your voice died as you looked into Sans’ eyes. You registered that one of his gloved hands had slipped to the small of your back to steady you after having to pull you back upright. The other rested on your upper arm. It felt firmer, more substantial than you would have guessed for a skeleton, you thought absently. A few moments passed, and your breath was caught in your chest. He was incredibly still, oddly warm, and distractingly… sturdy.

“what happened,” he said, nodding at your eye. It wasn’t a question.

You looked away. “I need to fill in Grillby first,” you said, instinct warring in your gut. Your loyalty and friendship was with Grillby, but something in you trusted Sans implicitly. You tried to ignore the hard pull of your quick heartbeat and your proximity, but you still felt the hard urge to confide in him.

Sans glanced at the bar and noted Grillby’s current preoccupation. He glanced back at you, and you were already looking at him again. You could feel your uncertainty on your face.

“we’ll get him when he’s free,” Sans said, the promise in his voice eroding the last of your will. You sighed, and nodded. He lifted his hand from your back, leaving the space feeling oddly empty - but you didn’t have time to think about it as he turned you around and nudged you back to the booth he had been sitting at. You felt his hand drift to hover over the same spot on your back as he guided you, and you wondered if his bones felt warm to the touch, or cold like you’d expect. Maybe it was just a trick of your muddied sense in the strange moment, or maybe he really  _ was _ as warm as you had thought. Were his bones smooth, or pitted and a little rough? How did his hands look under those gloves…?

You wondered if shock was finally setting in. With concerted effort, you tried to focus on something, anything else as you drew close to the table. 

Sans broke you out of your reverie and gestured for you to slide in first as you reached the round booth. You hesitated for just a moment, eyes flicking to the fish woman still sitting there.

“she won’t bite,” Sans said behind you, a chuckle in his tone. The woman caught your eye - she had been watching, you realized with an internal groan.

Her eyes flashed as she grinned a sharp-toothed smile at you. “Usually,” she added. Her voice was rough and commanding, but you couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself in reply. You slid into the booth, resting your back for a moment against the soft cushioning in relief. Your exhaustion hit you all at once then, and you leaned on your elbows onto the table.

“Here,” the monster woman said simply, sliding you her drink. You caught it wearily and lifted it to your lips. You checked the liquid in the glass with a close look and a sniff, and recognized it as one of Grillby’s stronger specials. With a slight nod to yourself, you took a sip. The spark of approval in the fish woman’s gaze was lost to you as you ended up taking a deeper drink; there was a spicy, sweet sting to the drink as you swallowed, and a flare of heat hit your belly as the magic quickly took effect. You exhaled as you set the drink back down, and a small puff of spiced smoke came out with a few sparks.

You slid it back to her with a nod of appreciation. “Firewhiskey - good choice,” you said. She nodded back at you, taking her own deep sip of the drink. She was leaning forward onto the table, and you noticed that her suit was a true black, unlike Sans’ charcoal, but she wore a crimson shirt that matched his.

The ache of your eye had dulled slightly, and you shifted your gaze to Sans as you relaxed a little. His right arm, closer to you, was rested along the back of the booth seat. He returned your gaze. Waiting. You studied his face for a moment as he looked at yours, and you couldn’t find much there to hint at his thoughts… besides the odd absence of his usual grin. His brow ridges had settled low, and the pinprick lights of his eyes didn’t waver from you. You sighed.

“I went out with… a couple of friends,” you began. “I have the night off. We ended up at another speakeasy, the one tended by Angel,” you said, checking Sans and his companion’s eyes for comprehension. Sans nodded, and the woman did after a moment of thought. There was a habit among the monster community to refer to smaller speakeasies by the main bartender - the bar’s name was important, but habit tended to lead to more frequent references to the bartender.  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ was the main exception you had seen, due to it’s size and popularity. “In any case, while we were there, I caught a glimpse of a group of human men. The same ones that had jumped me a week ago,” you said, an annoyed frown now pulling at your expression. Sans’ eyes narrowed, and his companion banged a fist on the table.

“They jumped you?” She growled. 

You shook your head. “They knew better, I think. I’m betting they don’t like me, but they aren’t sure if I really  _ was _ the reason they were kicked from  _ del Alma _ . I took a minute to let my friends know that they needed to skip out, quick.” You kept going, eyes no longer focused on the two monsters at the table as you recalled the events earlier, causing you to miss the look they shared. “And the bar… well, I used to perform there at open mic nights, years ago, before my first place of employment scouted me. So I stopped by the bar and let Angel know that there was something going on, then I ran out.”

“what did you tell her?” Sans asked, interrupting your recollection. You looked at him, eyebrow raised. He was serious, his gaze focused, so you figured there was a reason for his question.

“ _ Watch out for the blood _ ,” you said. The fish woman scowled.

“So it was  _ Il Sangue _ ?” She demanded. You looked to her, then glanced back at Sans. He waved a hand, his eyes focusing vaguely on you in thought. Taking that as an okay, you nodded at the woman. She swore fluidly in Spanish and you fought a smile of agreement.

“In any case… I was able to get out fine, but I ran into one of the goons around a corner,” you admitted with a grimace. “He didn’t waste time,” you gestured to your eye, “but he made the mistake of assuming I wasn’t used to that sort of thing.”

Your mouth perked somewhat wickedly despite yourself. It had been a long time since you had first been attacked, and you had made sure to learn how to fight well enough to get out of a tight spot quickly after. The woman to your side laughed openly at that, and leaned in towards you conspiratorially, a wide smirk on her face.

“Right in the jewels?” She asked.

“Elbow to the jaw and finished with the right kind of kick, yeah,” you explained with a smirk. It didn’t make your eye hurt less, but it at least made you feel a little less shitty about getting punched. 

“Walking away less hurt than the other guy - I always say that’s a win,” the other woman said, punching you on the shoulder in what you thought was meant to be a fond way. You winced and rubbed at the spot, but grinned back at her. She jabbed a thumb towards her chest and said, “I’m Undyne, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Undyne,” you replied, giving your name in return. “Are you and Sans…?” Your eye flicked over to the skeleton, who refocused and started grinning at your trailing question.

“Oh skies don’t get him started-” Undyne began before Sans cut her off. He leaned towards you, a mischievous glint to his eye.

“you wonderin’ if we’re…  _ bone buddies? _ ” He asked. You flared a deep red, and he chuckled as Undyne groaned in the background. “why d’you wanna know?”

You waved your hands in denial. “No, no, hell - I meant -” Where were your words? Skies above, you were trying so hard to look away from the heavy look and mischievous grin Sans was flashing you as he leaned in but your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away, your cheeks were on fire and your heart was racing,  _ why couldn’t you look away- _

“We work together,” Undyne said with a roll of her eyes, saving you. “The girl just got tangled with a group from  _ Il Sangue _ , no need to try and get her dizzy,” she directed dryly to Sans. He leaned back, closing his eyes and lifting his hands as if saying he’d stop. As he chuckled without losing that grin, though, Undyne caught your eye and narrowed her own eye at you, grinning like she’d caught the canary. You were  _ very  _ aware of the implied play on words, and of the way she flicked her eyes to Sans and back to you. At that moment, you felt vaguely grateful that you were already flushed so deeply that you couldn’t flush further.

“looks like Grillby’s through with the crowd,” Sans said suddenly. You glanced towards the bar and saw that the group the bartender was serving had finally dispersed with their drinks in hand. You moved to slide out towards Sans, but he stopped you with a hand on your arm. Brows drawing down, you looked up at him, but he was looking at Undyne. “grab him and tell him to bring some grub for her too, yeah?”

She scowled at him but glanced at your face, then moved to stand up. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I like her,” she said. 

“Thank you?” You ventured, meaning it genuinely but not quite sure of her reaction as she turned to walk away. She shot a grin over her shoulder at you and blinked - wait, no, that was a wink, you realized. You huffed out an incredulous and slightly embarassed laugh as you watched her make her way to the bar, noticing how muscular she was under her slimming suit.

Sans hand slipped a little lower on your arm, and you tensed as you realized that you were still sitting right next to him since trying to get out of the booth. 

Then you turned to him suddenly, remembering something. “Sans, listen, there’s something else.”

He looked at you, brow quirking upward.

“The men from  _ Il Sangue _ … the leader, actually - I saw him do something odd,” you said. It seemed important. You hoped it was.

“odd?” He prompted, waiting for you to continue.

“Well last time, I noticed they didn’t seem to be drinking much of what they had ordered… and this time, when I first saw them, I saw the leader take a flask out and pour a little of the drink into it,” you said.

Sans’ expression stayed still, but suddenly the pinpricks in his eyes disappeared. You felt a small twitch in the hand on your arm. “... just a little bit?” He asked.

You nodded in confirmation, unsettled. The pinpricks of white returned in his gaze - you wondered if he had been able to see you nod like that. His eyes scanned your face, and you decided to continue. “Then he slipped it back in his jacket, and held the glass to his lips - like he was pretending to drink it,” you said, knowing that he understood that the mobster seemed to be doing more than saving a little for later.

Sans continued looking at you. You stayed quiet, sensing that he was thinking through something. He nodded at last, and his grin returned to his face. He relaxed slightly, and his arm moved to rest on the back of the booth behind you. “that’s good info. thank you,” he said. You felt a warmth in your chest and you grinned.

“Glad that this was worth something in the end,” you said, motioning towards your eye before looking back out over the room. You rested against the back of the booth, the back of your mind trying to ignore how the sleeve of Sans’ suit was brushing against one shoulder. For a minute, you both sat there in relatively comfortable silence, the sound of the band and the general noise of the customers revelry relaxing you with its familiarity. Sans shifted slightly, then.

“you seem a little too used to this sort of thing,” he commented. You looked up at him - despite being close enough in height while standing, he somehow had a little height on you when sitting. Or maybe it was that he wasn’t slouching, now - you weren’t sure when he had stopped, but now he was turned slightly to you and you couldn’t look away.

You laughed wryly. “A canary’s got to be ready to  _ fly the cage _ when necessary,” you said, moving to slip back to your former position at the back of the booth. His arm behind you moves and his hand grips your further shoulder lightly, keeping you from moving.

“Even a canary should get some  _ ruffled feathers _ in this kind of situation,” he replied. His brow bone perked up, and despite his grin you felt a deadly seriousness emanating from him. You were silent as you regarded him for a long minute.

“... I’d be one lifeless canary dead on the street corner if I hadn’t figured how to handle myself,” you said at last. Your voice was soft, but your expression hard.

He was silent in turn for a moment. “you don’t have family to turn to?” He finally asked.

You chuckled, the sound dry. “I’m as good as dead to them regardless. And I wouldn’t turn to them anyways.” Your gaze shifted to the rest of the speakeasy, skimming over the dancers, the band, the patrons, the bar… “They’re my family,” you said emphatically. Your face twisted and you rested your hand over your chest. “You ever hear of the old human phrase about blood and water?”

You saw Sans look at you from the corner of your eye, an odd expression on his face. “the blood of the covenant…”

“-Is thicker than the water of the womb,” you finished for him, lowering your hand, still gazing out over the large room. “You can’t choose who you’re related to. You  _ can  _ choose who you spend your time with, who you stand by, who you bond closest with.” Your eyes moved back to meet his. “I chose mine. I don’t choose lightly.”

You didn’t look away from him and he held your gaze in return, the silence on the edge of uncomfortable. Too much had happened tonight. You looked away at last, eyes drifting over the place that had taken you in, the place that you really considered home. Something fierce burned in you.

“every action, every choice… it’s important,” Sans said. You saw he was looking out over the speakeasy too, but had a feeling he wasn’t really  _ looking  _ at it. “it’s easy to distance yourself. to let things happen, and act like they were out of your hands.” You were looking at him now, you realized, trying to read his face. It was pained. Your heart echoed it, and you lifted your hand and slipped it over the one he still had resting on your shoulder. He looked at you then, and you couldn’t see the pain anymore - but he caught your gaze, and you felt the weight of something dark on him. “owning your choices is hard. you... you’re strong,” he said. His gaze shifted to your chest, just below your clavicle, and you felt as though he could see the heavy beat of your heart. You felt like he had wanted to say something else, something besides “strong,” and you were so very aware of the way your heart sped up - and of the strange, almost soft way he was looking at you now.

Before you could build up the courage to ask him about it, a burger and fries slid to a stop in front of you. Your attention snapped to it and your eyes widened as your stomach grumbled in perfect timing. His hand disappeared from under yours in a flash, and you registered that his arm was laying naturally across the booth back again.

“... _come,_ _mija,_ ” Grillby said softly. You looked over at him as he slipped into the booth, followed by Undyne with a glass of water in one hand and a mug in the other. You had never felt this strongly about a burger and fries before, even Grillby’s, and you swore your mouth might be watering despite your desperate flurry of emotions from the preceding moments.

“Stars bless you, Grillby,” you said, reaching over to rest your hand on his for a moment. It was just short of too hot, like a stone that had been sitting in the bright sun most of the day, and was as oddly firm yet silky smooth as he always was. He nodded towards you, then shifted his gaze to the food and back to you expectantly. You didn’t need further encouragement.

Undyne placed the two drinks in front of you as you took a reverent bite of the burger, which was prepared just the way you liked it. You didn’t care that people were watching, or not very much, at least - this food was proving a religious experience, and as you ate you swore it tasted somehow even better than it usually did. 

Taking a moment to catch your breath halfway through the burger, you looked up at the small group. Grillby looked satisfied at your progress, Undyne was grinning no doubt at the presumably wolfish way you had been eating, and Sans had his usual grin back on his face. You hadn’t moved away from him, but at this point you didn’t quite care anymore.

You looked at Sans and Undyne. “While I finish, mind filling Grillby in a bit?” You said. He had a busy bar to attend to, and you felt bad for keeping him - the barhands could only do so much in his stead.

Sans nodded, catching your drift. You turned your attention back to your meal and took an experimental sip of the contents of the mug. It was a strong, flowery tea. You made a slight face - it was definitely stronger than you were used to - but you felt better for the drink. Undyne shot you a look as you considered the mug, a warning on her face. You took the hint and drank from it again.

She and Sans told Grillby about what had happened as you finished, and you spoke up a few times to fill in a detail or two. You had finished your burger and were contentedly working on the fries with a significantly less swollen face when Grillby finally asked a question.

“Who was it that you were with?” He asked, directing his gaze to you. You paused, fry halfway to your mouth.

“Ah, well…” You glanced at Sans and Undyne, knowing that the previously unnamed company you kept wasn’t exactly… run of the mill. Both lifted a brow at you, and you knew you couldn’t  _ not  _ answer at this point. “... Muffet and Mettaton,” you said a little slowly. Grillby’s flames rolled in only slight surprise, but Undyne banged on the table again and even Sans sat up marginally from the relaxed slouch he had fallen back into.

“You’re friends with the calculator and Muffet?!” Undyne demanded. 

You made a face, finishing your fry. “Yes,” you answered. Without success, you tried to read the incredulity on her face. “Is that a bad thing?”

“uncommon,” Sans said, eyeing you. Grillby didn’t add anything - he knew where you came from, after all, just not that you actually occasionally went out with the two. “i suppose the calculator makes sense, you can  _ count on _ him buddying up with anyone with a lot of talent,” he continued slowly, eyes brightening at the reluctant grin and flush that creeped up your face at the pun and compliment.

“Yeah, but not enough to go out dancing with,” Undyne interjected. She looked at you expectantly.

You ate another fry, trying to look at Grillby for help. He simply looked back at you - damn, he was also curious. Mettaton always hung around you when he had a moment and was checking in on the entertainment of  _ del Alma _ , but like Undyne said - that was different. The robot had the habit of being overly-familiar with  _ most  _ people he met as he felt the desire.

“Mettaton scouted me for  _ del Alma _ from Muffet’s cafe,” you explained. Undyne’s brows shot upward, and you decided you didn’t want to see the look on Sans’ face. “I had been working for her for over a year… she had originally found me when I performed at an open mic night at the same speakeasy we were at earlier tonight. She’s… eccentric, but we had become pretty close over the time I worked for her,” you continued.

“let me guess… you had a good eye for the creeps even then?” Sans asked. 

“Yeah, I would let her know whenever somebody was acting  _ fishy _ ,” you said, winking at Undyne. She rolled her eye and Sans chuckled. Grillby just shook his head. “She really warmed up to me, and after a while I got used to her… eccentricities,” You said with a glance to the side.

Undyne whistled low. Sans nodded in agreement. “not many people can get through the shield she  _ weaves _ ,” he said. You raise an eyebrow at the reach and he grinned with a half shrug.

“And Mettaton’s a schmooze, but he isn’t the type to get close to many,” Undyne added after taking a moment to glare at Sans.

Your cheeks darkened again, and you waved her off. “I wouldn’t say we’re  _ close _ , per se - but we like to catch up now and then. And the two of them have an odd alliance,” you said with an amused smile. “They actually like each other... or at least respect each other’s knack for business.” 

Undyne snorted into a laugh and Sans chuckled, and Grillby crackled a small laugh too. You had put it  _ very  _ lightly.

“Well, good to know that you’ve got connections, punk,” Undyne said, eyeing you with respect. You grinned at the praise. “Not everyone can make friends like that.”

You shrugged. “I trust my gut - they’re good people,” you said with a smile. You glanced around the table then, and added, “you all are, too.”

You had to fight a wider smile at the pleased reactions of the monsters at the table as they tried to play it off. Undyne flushed a deep blue and scoffed, even as a grin pulled at her face. Grillby looked away with arms crossed, flickering in a pleased way. Sans adjusted himself beside you, his grin perking genuinely. He looked back at you, and you looked back down at your fries, suddenly quite determined to eat the rest of them.

“So, in any case,” you cleared your throat as you picked up a few, “What next?”

Undyne looked at Sans, expression turning serious again. Grillby continued looking out over the room.

“this tip will have to come back with us,” he said. “it’ll help in moving things along. we’ll let you know if there’s anything more you should do,” he continued, glancing at you and Grillby. “for now, keep an eye out for those pins.”

You and Grillby nodded. Undyne stepped out of the booth, allowing Grillby to slip out. The bartender looked at the two of them for a moment, then nodded once more before striding away. Undyne stayed standing and looked at Sans expectantly. He stretched languidly as you finished off the last handful of fries.

“Will you be able to get home on your own?” Undyne asked you. You flashed her a tired smile, your exhaustion creeping in again. It was accompanied by less pain now though, at least.

“I’ll manage fine,” you said. She eyed you skeptically, but you grinned a little more genuinely at her. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“I feel like that’s the concern, here,” she said dryly. She shook her head though and crossed her arms. “If you say so, though. Ready, bonehead?”

You looked at Sans, and caught him sighing despite his wide grin. He flicked the brim of his hat upward and eyed Undyne. “yeah, we need to get this info back,” he said. He stepped out of the booth with surprising grace, and slipped his hands in his pant pockets as he turned to look back at you.

“try to keep out of  _ treble _ , doll,” he said with a quirk to his grin. You laughed, reaching to take a sip of the tea.

“Hey, believe  _ tea _ , I’m not looking for it,” you said, raising the mug to him. He laughed openly as Undyne rolled her eyes, but grinned despite herself. “Let’s  _ table _ the blame till next time, yeah?” You continued, knocking one hand on the table with a sparkle in your eye. 

Undyne groaned and walked away. Sans glanced after her, but before following he turned back to you and rested a hand on the table to lean in.

“next time,” he said simply once you hadn’t been able to look away. That grin was on his face still, and your mind flashed involuntarily to the way his hand had felt on the small of your back, your arm, your shoulder. The loud beat of your heart felt tight in your chest, and you swore you saw Sans’ eyes flicker downwards. 

It was a challenge, you realized. 

Your eyes focused on his again, and you simply smirked. “Next time,” you said. His grin widened in response, and he moved to stand upright again. 

He walked at a laid-back pace after Undyne, and when he glanced back you winked at him before he could catch you off guard. 

His shoulders shook in a chuckle you could almost hear. You turned your attention back to the mug you still cradled in your hands. The mischievous promise in his words left you smiling into your tea as you were left alone to recover a little longer at the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> (-∧-；) I lasted barely 24 hours before posting this next chapter. Restraint is, apparently, not my strong point.
> 
> Ahhhhh what can I say, I already had written this chapter due to some unexpected extra time on Sunday and I got a little encouragement from one of you to give in and post so~ yeah, I'll blame the Sans & Reader moments that got to happen in this one. Let me know what you think, heh.
> 
> Anyways, luckily I'm still determined to post once a week, and I'm counting this as a bonus posted chapter rather than the official 'one' for this week! Or maybe I just like pain and emotional torment (especially since I'm updating my other Undertale fic once a week too, gah). Eh. Either way, hope you liked this chapter! I'm about to go on a bit of a reply spree since I'm neglecting the smart choice to get some damn sleep. Leave comment/kudos - I can't ever really express what they mean to me. <3


	5. Mutual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Isn’t it your job to know what goes on in del Alma?” You asked._
> 
> _A brow bone perked on his face, no betrayal of emotion on his measured, easy expression. “what makes ya say that?”_  
> 
> _You huff out a sigh, a wry look on your face all but silently asking him just how much of a fool he thought you were. He didn’t say anything in response, but simply kept his brow up in question. You rolled your eyes. “Sans, it’s my job to take notice of things,” you said._
> 
> _“thought it was your job to dazzle the lucky audience,” he said innocently._

It was during your performance a week later that you caught a glimpse of the shock of white fur peeking out from a booth in the back. You caught the sight of a basket of fries and a tumbler of shimmering amber liquid and knew that you had a particularly great patron to check in on later that night.

After having made your usual rounds and having tipped Grillby off to a potentially rowdy group of younger customers, you made your way to the booth you had noted earlier with your own sweeter cocktail in hand. The monster you approached was distracted, her snowy fur only slightly ruffled and her eyes focused downwards on a spread of detailed papers. With a quiet step, you closed the last of the distance between you and leaned gently on the table.

“It’s  _ goat  _ to have been at least two months since I last saw you,” you greeted her. She looked up, the briefest flash of confusion on her face before perking up as she began to register the pun with a smile in return. She lit up further as she recognized you, and laughed openly and unashamedly. This was Toriel, a beautiful monster woman you considered yourself privileged to count as a friend. She gestured across from her as she regained herself, and you took a seat with an accomplished smile.

“My dear, how lovely it is to see you! And even lovelier to  _ ‘ear _ you,” she said, with a mischievous smile and a flick at one of her floppy ears. You had to stifle your own laugh - there was something so incredibly  _ earnest _ about her wordplay that even the ones that were a stretch would delight you.

“You’re too kind! I do love being able to sing at  _ del Alma _ \- I feel like I was  _ horn  _ to do it,” you replied, looking purposefully at the small horns poking out from the fur on her head. She lifted a hand to her mouth as she began giggling again, her eyes wide and crinkled at the corners. “ _ Paw _ don the jokes, Toriel, you just bring out the  _ furst _ in my sense of humor,” you said with an innocent smile, flexing one hand and pointing to it as you briefly glanced at her own paw-like hand covering her mouth. Toriel doubled over at this, laughter bubbling up and out of her as she weakly waved one hand at you in surrender. You took mercy on her and drank your cocktail with a wink at her.

She came up at last, still trying to swallow the last of her laughter as she wiped at the tears in her eyes. “You always send me over the edge so easily,” she said with another huff of a laugh. A pride in your wordplay bubbled bright in you and you pretended to curtsy from your seat.

“Only the best for former royalty,” you said. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“That is a  _ long  _ former, my dear,” she said wryly. “I’m simply a consultant and mother nowadays,” she continued, though her face betrayed her at the word ‘mother’ and a softness crossed her face.

“Nothing  _ just _ about that, Toriel,” you replied, one eyebrow perking up. She waved you off and took a sip from her magical whiskey. It was a rare and guilty pleasure for her, one you were happy to help her indulge. “How is Frisk doing these days, now that you mention it?”

Her wry grin was back. “Frisk was never an ordinary child, and I suppose I should have expected nothing less when they became a teenager,” she said. You fought a smile - you had heard of her grievances and joys for a long while now. She acted as a financial and administrative consultant for  _ del Alma  _ \- and other organizations, you knew though you did not pry - and about once every month or two she would stay or come in late as she worked through some paperwork. It was a much needed change of pace for her - she acted as a single mother for Frisk, the child who had apparently freed the monsters from Underground. Frisk was apparently in the early years of teenagerdom now, and you had heard about many of their adventures from a sometimes exasperated, yet ever-proud, Toriel.

“Did they try to stick you and Asgore in a locked room again?” You ventured, biting at the grin that you knew had already spread.

Toriel snorted. “No, thank the stars. I believe they learned after the  _ last  _ time that the only thing that would come from that is an  _ incredible _ number of snail pies in lieu of the usual sweet ones.”

“Truly, the worst of punishments.”

“When you have a sweet tooth like they do, you’d be surprised at how effective a consequence that is,” she replied with a grin. 

You laughed openly now. Toriel had a hard time truly punishing Frisk, but she could get very creative with her consequences in substitution. “So, what was the latest incident, then?”

A look of exhaustion passed over her face. “They called one of the human politicians at the conference last weekend an ‘absolute potato’ who was ‘too stuck rotting in the old ways to get a soul bright enough to function’,” she said. She buried her head in her hands and groaned as you warred between expressing empathy for Toriel and wanting to high-five the young ambassador. Before you could wrestle your face into submission, Toriel glanced up at you and sighed with a wry grin. “I understand the feeling,” she said in reply to the difficulty you were having with squashing the wicked and proud smile.

You had the good grace to at least look a little sheepish at that. Toriel chuckled despite herself, then after a moment of consideration, downed the rest of her drink. Your brows shot up at this, and an impressed smile creeped onto your face. A puff of sparks and smoke came out of her nostrils as she exhaled and set the glass down. You raised your own to her and drank deeply from it with another wink. She huffed out a laugh and shuffled the papers in front of her together into a more-or-less neat pile. They were expenses and figures that seemed to be projecting something, and she had marked them up with a number of beautifully inscribed comments and more than a few questions. 

Not wanting to seem nosy, you shifted your gaze to the rest of the room. The dancing and drinking went on as it always did, and you felt a bit of relief in the lack of suspicious activity. Then again, if there was a bit of suspicious activity, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Grillby and the various figures in charge of maintaining the relative non-violence of the bar were adept at handling disruptions, and if anything out of place occurred you would probably get to see- 

Your cheeks colored as you pulled a face and stopped the train of thought in its tracks with a deep and determined drink from your cocktail.

“Something on your mind, my dear…?” Toriel said. You glanced at her as you drank, and nearly choked. She was eyeing your cheeks, and her eyes flashed to yours with a knowing glint.

You hit a fist to your chest as you caught your breath and set down your nearly empty drink with a grimace. A little late, you realized just how deeply your face  _ had _ colored. You tried to play it off with a wave. “No, no, just uh… remembering something funny,” you said a little too casually.

Toriel sat back, grace even in the small movement, and continued to smile at you. “Something funny?” She prompted. You simply nodded, not meeting her gaze. “Or… some _ one _ ?” 

A groan fought to escape you as your eyes flashed back to her again, face plagued with a guilty smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. It was more than slightly unconvincing.

Toriel laughed then, bright and warm, and her own gaze went out to the room. “In the years you’ve worked here, I’ve never quite seen you flush like that,” she said with one of her brows raising. You rolled your eyes.

“My  _ job _ is to make people flush like that,” you said.

“Precisely - you’re not the one doing the flushing,” she replied.

Damn. “I’m very good at pretending.”

“Only when your guard is not down, my child.”

You glare playfully at her, your heart not quite in actually being mad. She met your glare easily. The former queen was far too clever. “You’re too nice to keep my guard up all the time,” you replied, hedging.

“Ah, so I was right?” Her smile went wide again.

Shit. “It’s not common that I get someone who…” you said, trailing off. That blush was creeping up your cheeks.

Both of her brows lifted now. “Oh, someone new actually did catch you off guard?” She said, pleased surprise in her voice.

You rested your forehead in the crook of your hand between your forefinger and thumb as if you had a headache. “I’m not losing my touch, really,” you swore. 

Toriel chuckled. “Trust me, I saw you working just now, both onstage and off. That thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” You glanced up at her, and even in her teasing expression, you saw that she was telling the truth. Phew. “And still… someone seems to have drawn your attention outside of the realm of your usual job,” she continued, that approving grin pulling at her face again.

“I feel like it’s unfair that you’re using your powers of motherly observation on me,” you protested, now staring into the last of your cocktail and willing your face to be less easily readable. It was so much harder with someone like Toriel - you could charm the pants off of strangers, quite literally if need be, and yet she tripped you up so easily. You glanced back up at her face, and through the mischievous smile she was giving you as she considered you, you saw the kindness and genuine happiness for you in her expression.

You grimaced. Yes, you were a sucker for the closer members of your little family in the shadows of this town.

And so you relented. “Alright, alright, yes, someone… may have caught my eye, if only a little,” you admitted. Before Toriel could continue, you said, “but only because he - he’s so clever, quick on his feet, or I suppose with his tongue?” You considered aloud, the blush beginning to hit you before you realized the implications of your last words and  _ by the stars _ your face turned even deeper colors as your eyes flashed to Toriel’s widening ones, a blush faintly visible through her fur. You lifted your hands and waved them frantically. “No, no! Oh stars, I mean - I meant he’s, he’s really clever! Hell - no, I’ve only seen him a few times, he’s just really funny and has a way with- arghh _ hhhh _ ,” you groan loudly, thumping your head into your hands to hide the brilliant colors you were turning. Curse the alcohol you had been drinking, curse Toriel for being able to get you to talk so easily, curse your own mouth, curse that damn handsome skel-

“everythin’ alright over here, ladies?”

Oh  _ hell no. _

“Oh, my! Good evening, Sans!” You heard Toriel say, struggling to muffle the laughter that had bubbled out of her as you tried to backtrack. You, meanwhile, had frozen, and were staring desperately at the dark swirling wood grain of the table you were at. There was no feasible way you thought you could meet his eyes now. “How are you doing this evening?” Toriel continued unknowingly, a giggle still in her voice.

“i’ve  _ goat _ an evening off for once, so it’s a good one so far.” You swore that you could feel Sans’ baritone slide over your skin and along your very bones before you registered his voice. Oh no.  _ Bones _ . You bite back a chuckle.

“er... you alright under there, canary?” He ventured. You groaned quietly.

“She’s simply flustered at the thought of-” you cut her off with a noise of protest and a sharp glare through your fingers. Ah, there he was, you could just glimpse the lower part of his torso, his hands tucked into his pockets as his suit jacket was pulled back slightly. You refused to lift your eyes further. Toriel snickered. “Ah, never mind, apparently,” she said. “Though, now that I think of it, she actually used the same ‘goat’ wordplay on me earlier,” she added thoughtfully. 

You couldn’t hide anymore, you knew. Straightening up, you glanced at Sans and tried to play it cool when you met his curious gaze and caught his usual grin. “What can I say?  _ Early bird _ gets the worm.”

A moment passed. Then Toriel slapped her hands over her mouth as she tried to catch her laughter. Sans shifted his full attention to you and your own grin, and his stretched a little wider in return. You had the feeling now that while the grin was standard, there were little things that would betray something behind each one. 

This grin was impish and  _ incredibly  _ delighted.

“ _ owl _ give ya that, but it’s the lazy bird  _ hoo _ gets the easy leftovers that’ve already been left out,” he replied, the white dots in his eyes bright and trained on you.

You grin back. “That’s a  _ swan _ derful thought, but a terrible  _ yolk _ .” You leaned casually on the table, your brow lifting in challenge.

His face twisted as if offended, but he closed one eye in an extended wink while the other one twinkled a little. “and here i thought you had an  _ egg _ cellent sense of humor,” he said. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Toriel had already long succumbed to it, but you weren’t going to lose this one.

“ _ Cardinal _ rule of jokes:  _ toucan _ ’t try too hard,” you said. He leaned forward towards you, and you were more aware than you had been of your heart beating hard at the adrenaline of the game.

“i dunno,  _ migrate _ st pleasure is in spreading that kind of laugh,” he said with a nod towards the teary-eyed laughing figure of Toriel shaking her head in disbelief. You ignored the way her eyes were flickering between you and Sans, and tried very hard to also ignore the way Sans’ voice had dipped as he said ‘pleasure.’

You bit your lip and tried to think for a moment - damn, you had this, you just had to stay focused, ignore the way his grin was spreading, how did he even do that, wasn’t he made of bones, was his face hard or soft, it must be magic, and skies above now you were thinking about how it felt to touch him, again-

“i’m  _ talon _ you, you can’t  _ beak _ me at-” 

“Don’t put too much  _ stork _ in your own game, it’ll just get  _ hawk _ ward when I  _ beak _ you and end up on top,” you said.

You heard the slight gasp from Toriel as she bit down her laughter and glanced at Sans for his comeback. His eyes had gone a little wide - when had he gotten so close, you wondered, he had started leaning on the table a while back but you must have risen slightly in your banter and his face was so close - and his cheekbones were dusted with blue. Your own cheeks flushed,  _ again _ . You couldn’t quite look away, and the very small number of seconds your eyes were locked seem to stretch.

Toriel stood smoothly, and you finally tore your eyes from Sans’ to glance at her. She was smiling still, bright and amused. “I do believe I would like another refill… I’ll fetch one for you as well,” she said to you. Your eyes met as she glanced down at you, and you noticed that mischievous sparkle in her eyes again as she glanced at Sans, then back at you, then back to Sans. “I’ll order your usual for you as well, Sans,” she continued, ushering him into her seat. Slightly bewildered, he sat down, more out of sorts than you had seen him even as he slipped his usual grin back on.

“uh, no need Tori, i can-”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” she said, brushing him off. “I’ll be back in a few,” she said with a wave and a tone of absolute innocence. You narrowed your eyes at her back. She was  _ definitely _ far too clever.

You glanced back at Sans, hiding your cheeks behind one hand as nonchalantly as you could. “I, uh… I  _ geese  _ I won that one,” you said, your sheepish yet cocky grin only partially hidden. His slightly incredulous expression as he stared after Toriel settled at your words, and he focused once more on you, his grin more comfortable.

“you copied my pun, so i think that’s a point for me,” he said, settling back into the booth with his arms resting on top of the back of the booth. He was so relaxed, you tried to copy his attitude as you leaned back and crossed your arms in another challenge.

“I was already speaking before you got to  _ beak _ , you cheater,” you replied. You kept your tone even, but let a playful perk to your mouth give you away.

“still, i  _ beak _ ’d ya to it,” he said with a lazy, confident grin. Oh, you wanted to get it to slip off his face.

You pushed that thought away with heat rising again to your face. You laughed and shook your head at the situation, missing the way his eyes caught on the flush on your cheeks. “That was a stretch,” you said. He shrugged, one eye closing again.

“You liked it,  _ cariña, _ ” he said.

Well,  _ that _ was a new one. You weren’t totally fluent in Spanish, but you had heard the term quite a few times before and  _ how _ it was said, and you felt your mouth go a little dry at the timbre of his voice. Any quick-witted reply slipped out of your brain as your eyes went a little wide and you felt every ounce of blood in you rush to your face. After only a split second, his eyes went a little unfocused and that blue dusting on his face came back. You weren’t sure if it was intentional and you wanted to watch his face to try to figure it out even as you wanted to hide your own - but right then, a clamor erupted at the other side of the room. 

Sans eyes snapped to the same spot yours did as a few of the stronghands who usually kept to a few tactically visible spots on the edges of the room broke up a fight that had turned nasty extremely quickly. A handful of humans were stumbling and cursing drunkenly as the bouncers pulled them away from a small group of monsters, one of whom was being firmly held back by the largest of the guards as he snarled at the humans. You caught the glimmer of broken glasses on the ground, and one of the women monsters from the small group was nursing a gash on one of her arms as the others shepherded her away.

“this happen often?” Sans asked. One of his legs had swung out of the booth despite his relaxed posture, and his grin was sharper than usual. His gaze didn’t move from the group being broken up. On the stage, the band kept playing, and the quick tempo of the music made the scene feel oddly showy. 

You allowed yourself a moment to consider his question. “Frequently enough, but not abnormally so,” you said. His eyes flickered to you, so you met his gaze. “Considering we’re at an illegal magical speakeasy with a fairly diverse crowd,” you continued dryly in answer to his silent question. He considered you for a moment.

“can’t argue with that,” he said. 

You narrowed your eyes after a moment, not angry - curious. “Isn’t it your job to know what goes on in  _ del Alma _ ?” You asked. 

A brow bone perked on his face, no betrayal of emotion on his measured, easy expression. “what makes ya say that?” 

You huff out a sigh, a wry look on your face all but silently asking him just how much of a fool he thought you were. He didn’t say anything in response, but simply kept his brow up in question. You rolled your eyes. “Sans, it’s my  _ job  _ to take notice of things,” you said.

“thought it was your job to dazzle the lucky audience,” he said innocently. You didn’t buy it, not with that slightly smug grin on his face.

“Sure, I do that as well,” you said with a wave, feeling a bit pleased despite yourself at the compliment. “But you’re not just some trigger man - or monster, as it were,” you continued. “You’re the one they send in when something deeper is going down. You’ve got a sharper eye…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze for a hot moment. Sometimes, you swore those lights in his eyes could see even more than you had already picked up on. “... And I think you already know just how much this sort of thing occurs,” you finished, your gaze serious. He didn’t look away, and neither did you.

“... like i said, one hell of a knack,” he said at last, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch his words. A small frown crossed your features and the space between your eyebrows scrunched slightly as you tilted your head and tried to figure out his words. Your eyes didn’t leave his face, but they were staring past him, into the distance, as the memory tugged at you. Then, it hit you - like he had said at the edge of the dancefloor the first night you met. You had a knack for noticing things.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt a flutter in your chest for the echo of his words a few weeks ago. “And like I said… it’s kept me alive,” you replied softly. You looked back out at the room.

Sans shifted slightly, one arm leaving the back of the booth. “i’m glad,” he said.

Your eyes flicked back to his. You couldn’t quite read his face. “About what?” You asked, trying to sort out what he was referencing.

Ah, a wry smile was on  _ his  _ face now. It was an odd shift from his usual grin. “seems that knack will only get you so far, though,” he said cryptically, mostly to himself. Your face pulled into a frown. He seemed… relieved? Amused? “pretty far,  _ aún así _ ,” he said.

“That whole air of…” you gestured vaguely at him, and he raised a brow and grins in return. You rolled your eyes. “...  _ misterio _ , it’s a bit infuriating, you know,” you told him.

He chuckled. “pretty good accent, doll,” he said. You shook your head again, grinning.

“There you go again,” you said wryly. He simply winked at you.

And suddenly without notice Toriel is at your table again, doing a truly terrible job at hiding a wide smile. “I apologize for taking quite so long,” she said, looking anything but. She slid you nothing other than a Winter Glow. It shimmered and glowed beautifully, and you couldn’t help but sigh happily at its appearance. Meanwhile, Toriel slid Sans a Bloody Mary, which he caught smoothly. Before he could move to stand up and let her in, she moved to sit next to him, forcing him to slide further into the booth. This ended up with him in the back of the booth, between you and Toriel. You looked at Toriel, trying to catch her eye, but she was looking quite happily at her fresh magical whiskey on the rocks. 

“Quite busy at the bar, Toriel?” You asked innocently, eyeing her over the edge of your glass.

She looked at you with a smile. “Yes, quite,” she replied. “Grillby said that the Winter Glow was one of your favorites as of late,” she said, shifting the topic. You decided to let her with a vaguely amused sigh. 

“He’s not wrong - it’s absolutely delicious, and the effects are beautiful,” you admitted. 

“I actually haven’t seen one at work yet,” she said - it was a new mix, after all. “Have you, Sans?”

You both look over to the skeleton, who had crossed one ankle over the top of his opposite leg and was lowering his Bloody Mary. Damn, you missed it again. “er, yeah, once - with her, actually,” he said. He addressed Toriel, not quite meeting your eye.

“How lucky! Mind demonstrating for me, dear?” Toriel said to you. The request was perfectly innocuous, considering that it  _ was _ a new drink and that she had gotten it for you, but you felt a hint of an ulterior motive and you studied her for a moment to try to parse it out.

It felt odd to say no, however, and you really did like the drink, so… “Not at all,” you said. Slowly, remembering the breathtaking chill that would shoot through you, you sipped the drink. You shuddered slightly at the pleasurably chilled tingle of magic that slipped through you and to your core with an icy bolt. You felt and saw the cobalt blue magic streak like webbed lightning along your skin, lighting up your body and swooping along each soft and hard curving line of you. 

You looked up to see Toriel’s expression, lit gently by the magic lighting you. She was wide-eyed and smiling softly. Without thinking about it, you glanced at Sans. 

His eyes were grazing your body, following the trail of magic that outlined your every nerve. His gaze was heavy and lidded, the white lights of his eyes slightly dim. Something in the set of his jaw was hard, as if he were struggling to keep himself still, and you tensed as well, the blue glow hiding the latest flush of your cheeks. You felt like he could see right through you, and his gaze kept moving, moving, before settling at last on that spot just a few inches below your collarbone, as if he were gazing at something in your very core, and as if he very, very much liked what he saw. You breathed out, crystalline breath puffing prettily in front of your lips, and tried to tear your eyes away from the way his shifted over you.

At last the glow faded, and with a vague awareness you realized that less than a minute had passed, less than 30 seconds, if even that. 

“Beautiful,” Toriel murmured. You laughed a little shakily, at least partially at her compliment.

Low, next to you, “... Grillby really knows his  _ magia _ ,” Sans said softly. His voice seemed a little rougher than usual. 

“Best bartender in all of Ebott City,” you added, vaguely proud of how steady your voice was. Without thinking, you took another deep sip of the refreshing drink, feeling the icy magic slip through you. You looked over at the stage as you caught yourself too late. You weren’t quite sure you were ready to see… further reactions. You were still reeling from the first set. “So, ah, Toriel, Sans, how do you know each other?” You said as you felt the chill race through you, the glow tracing its paths through you as your breath crystallized and shimmered briefly once more.

You looked at Toriel, whose gaze was in the middle of shifting from Sans to you. “We knew each other quite well Underground,” she replied with a small smile. “Sans… visited me quite frequently.”

You considered her words, then your eyes widened. “You, ah, you were-?”

A brief pause. Then it was Toriel’s turn to color at last as realization dawned on her. “Oh, oh skies no-”

Sans coughed then as he caught up, and you finally turned to look back at him just as he covered his mouth, clearly having choked on his drink in his delayed reaction. “oh hell, Tori-”

“I didn’t mean-! We were, we were simply good friends,” Toriel managed. Something relaxed in your chest, and you started laughing in what might have been relief at the way she was turning so deeply red under her fur. You looked at Sans, and found yourself enjoying the now  _ extremely _ deeply blue flush that had spread across his cheekbones, looking for once at a loss before he groaned and rubbed his hand on his face.

“the  _ normal _ kind of friends,” Sans said emphatically. “Tori always had good taste in jokes, so i’d practice some of my material on her when i was in the area,” he explained, getting a hold on himself and looking back up at you. The blue glow on his cheeks had faded to almost nothing, but the grin on his face still hinted at his vague discomfort and odd earnestness. You were really starting to enjoy just how out of sorts he got when he was teased. You filed that information away for future reference with a poorly-hidden snicker. He shot you a half-hearted glare, which you winked at.

You relented then, if only for Toriel’s sake. “Okay, okay, I won’t tease further on that,” you said, adding a mental ‘ _ for now’ _ to yourself. After all, that sort of reaction was priceless, and you had been forced into a flustered state a little too much recently. You needed  _ some _ ammo. “I actually have to go finish my set now,” you said truthfully with a rueful smile. The band had shifted and was re-tuning in a brief break. You really were sad to have to walk away. “Promise we’ll actually catch up properly soon?” You said to Toriel.

She nodded happily, her blush subsiding. “Of course, my dear,” she said, clearly meaning it. You smiled warmly at her - you truly did enjoy her company. 

“And I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you said to Sans, your eyes slipping to meet his. He had settled back into a lazy position - but he was a little  _ too  _ relaxed, you noted with a grin. Only the smallest question was in your voice - you didn’t know his schedule, so you were always left unsure of when you’d see him next, and you found yourself looking for a glimpse of his lazy grin almost every night.

“i’d count on that,” he said in reply, grinning back at you with one eye closed again, his hands now in his pockets. You stood and lifted your glass slightly to him and Toriel in toast before you turned and walked away.

You approached the stage, not quite able to fight the smile that was pulling at your mouth again. You made your way towards the mic after some soft greetings to the band. Thoughtfully, you cradled your drink in one hand. There was enough left in it for just a little mischief.

“Hello again,” you greet the audience in a low, almost sultry tone with a playful grin now fully on your lips. You’re greeted in turn with a number of cheers and whistles, and your eyes rove over the audience. “If you’ve been waiting for a sign that you should try a little something new, allow me to give you a little inspiration and insight into just how fantastic our very own Grillby is…” you lifted your glass as the band began to play the slow swinging intro to your first song, tipping it towards the flickering bartender with a smile and a wink. Then, you moved the glass to your lips, your eyes roving once more across the room, before settling briefly on the table you had just been at, where Toriel and Sans still sat, able to tell that both were looking at you even if they were too far to really see their faces… and then, you drained the last of your drink. 

You felt the magic spark and slip through you, feeling the lightning webbing of the magic light you up gently, ethereally. You heard the murmur and awed gasps of the audience, and without a misstep, you closed your eyes and took the mic stand in your free hand and took a crystalline breath.

“ _ I put a spell on you… _ ”

An old classic. You were met once more with cheers, and you opened your eyes and gazed out towards the audience. In the distance, tucked in a booth, you felt the source of a focused gaze, and you couldn’t help the new confidence lending you that sly smile even as you felt something deep in your core pulse and flutter.

“ _ Because you’re mine.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader can't stop blushing, but damned if she won't rise fantastically to the challenge...
> 
> And welcome Toriel to our little AU! It took me a while to figure out what she would drink, but in the end I realized that she is definitely lowkey hardcore enough that whiskey would actually be perfect for her, especially since here she only indulges on occasion. Meanwhile, puns galore, much to everyone's delight?
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support and kind words!! It's been a lot of fun setting everything up so far, and getting the beginnings of Sans & Reader's interactions (and the world, yknow, the less important stuff, ahem) set up - it's been important, especially with what will begin rolling next chapter... heheh. Let me know how you're liking things so far! <3


	6. Centerstage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Ah, well, that’s perhaps even more fun.”_
> 
> _You looked up at him once again, another look of confusion on your face. He met your gaze with a mischievously wicked smile._
> 
> _“That just means that there is very much something that could be there,” he said._

The entirety of  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ was packed. The bar itself was surrounded by an eager mob, and the rest of the speakeasy’s crowd was lively under the low lights of the crystalline chandeliers. Several bar hands were preparing the initial necessities of the swarms of orders, and Grillby swept by to finish the mixing and add the magical flair and masterful visual finesse to each drink before handing it to the appropriate customer as he accepted their coin. A small portion of the band serenaded the room, and waitstaff deftly navigated the crowd with all the magical fare that would keep the patrons lively for the night to come.

You watched this all from the edge of the stage, hidden in the shadows of the small wing off stage right. It was bad practice, but you couldn’t help it. The flutter of nerves in your gut was a happy one, even as you felt a little light in the head. 

“You will be simply phenomenal, darling.”

You felt one of Mettaton’s gloved hands slip onto the bare skin of your shoulder as he purred the words of encouragement quietly. You tilted your head to look at him with a smile on your face. He was donned in a decadent black and silver gown, with a gauzy robe-like shawl trimmed in a cloudlike material draped low on him, pooling at the inner curves of his metallic arms. You were grateful that he had supplied your own gown, as well - both as a friend and as the manager of the entertainment of  _ Del Alma _ , he wanted you looking stunning. You actually had several outfit changes planned for the night, thanks to him. Your first dress was simple yet elegant, a deep plum halter-style gown with shimmering stones embellishing the hem.

“Thank you,” you replied gratefully. Accustomed or not, there was a certain skittish excitement that never quite went away when performing for such a large crowd. “You look utterly dazzling, by the way,” you added with an appreciative wandering gaze. He chuckled and winked at you.

“Don’t I know it,” he said. You huffed out a good-natured laugh at his usual confidence, then turned to look at the audience again. Your eyes skimmed the crowd. Mettaton hummed softly. “Looking for someone?”

You felt a wider grin pulling at your small smile. Without meeting Mettaton’s gaze, you replied, “I won’t lie, there’s a face or two I wouldn’t mind seeing.” 

A whir of delight came from Mettaton. “Oooo,  _ la intriga! _ Who is this mystery person - or persons?” He all but demanded, drawing close and leaning towards you. A slight blush crept onto your face, but you kept grinning.

“Well, I’ve been running into some old friends lately, I certainly hope they’ve been able to make it,” you said, knowingly dodging his true question. Your eyes flicked over to him, and you caught his eye roll and pout. He crossed his arms.

“Really, darling, I had no idea that you’d enjoy having your friends here,” he drawled, his one visible brow drawing upward. 

You covered your mouth lightly with one hand as you laughed.

Your eyes moved back to the crowd as you lowered your hand, but it was simply too crowded in the venue, and you were a little too far back - you couldn’t make out too many faces distinctly. 

“No, no, I know you better than that,” Mettaton’s voice was sly now. “This one is a new face, isn’t it?”

He really did have a good eye. The press coverage on his abilities and latest events as the premiere monster star never gave him enough credit in general, but they truly never came close to fathoming just how clever the robot was. He had to be, to get where he was.

“Maybe,” you admitted. Well, it was true. You had met several weeks ago, after all. Maybe over a month. Not  _ exactly _ new.

Mettaton took it as a victory regardless. “Oh, I simply  _ must _ meet this rare creature who has managed to capture your attention for more than a moment of shrewd awareness of their questionable intent,” he said quickly, linking his arm through yours as he waxed on. There was no question in his tone. “Especially if it has been for longer than a passing tryst,” he continued, and you felt his visible eye slip to rest on your face.

Curse him, your blush heated just a little further. “There hasn’t  _ been _ a tryst, as much as I know that will disappoint you,” you replied, keeping your tone steady and teasing. 

He gasped quietly. He didn’t sound disappointed at all. “Oh, my dear, then…?”

Your gaze went to him in question. 

“There’s more than just the  _ physical  _ attraction-?” He began to ask, but you cut him off with a smack on the arm.

“There’s  _ nothing _ ,” you emphasized, incredibly flustered, and utterly aware that your reaction meant anything but. “He’s simply enjoyable to be around,” you muttered.

“Ah, so a man, then,” Mettaton mused brightly. You resisted the urge to smack your face only at the last moment, remembering the careful and  _ long _ makeup process you had undergone earlier. “So, would this mystery paramour be a human, or a monster?” He inquired, tone utterly innocent despite everything that was written on his face. You couldn’t help yourself - your face shifted slightly when he said monster. 

You tried to fend him off as you felt him rise delightedly. “I’m sure you don’t know him Mettaton, really-” you honestly had no idea whether this was true, but Sans and Mettaton ran in different circles, surely -

“Oh darling, do you not know me at all? I know  _ everybody _ ,” he purred. “Everyone worth knowing, anyways,” he added. His expression was pleased and gave you the distinct impression that he was scheming something. You sighed, an exasperated smile on your face. At least he cared.

“In all seriousness, though, there really isn’t anything there,” you told him. His brow twitched upward again, his lips pursing. “Yes, really. We… banter, and I do enjoy his company - and I like to think likewise - but nothing more is there,” you continued as firmly as you could. You truly doubted that the mobster had time to spare on anything more than idle flirting, if you had his measure of rank and attitude even loosely right. Not that you’d mind… no, no, you shook  _ that _ thought from your head quickly.

Mettaton stayed quiet for a moment longer. Then, “Ah, well, that’s perhaps even more fun.”

You looked up at him once again, another look of confusion on your face. He met your gaze with a mischievously wicked smile. 

“That just means that there is very much something that  _ could _ be there,” he said. You flushed, and fought a groan. 

Perfect. You had effectively given him a challenge.

He was going to  _ thoroughly  _ enjoy this, you knew. 

“Mettaton…” you began.

He held a single gloved finger to your lips. “Darling, I take care of my friends,” he said with a smooth smile. Your heart perked a little at being called his friend so genuinely - and then settled and sank, as you registered that he was going to be up to a significant amount of certainly embarrassing mischief  _ very  _ soon. Embarrassing for you, of course. Oh dear.

With a hush, the lights of the stage dimmed further as the small filler band went quiet. Several more musicians filtered onto the stage, filling out the band to its full glory. You took a steadying breath, pushing Mettaton’s coming mischief out of your mind as you flashed him a smile. He returned it with a wink, squeezed your arm, and readjusted his gauzy shawl. Without further ado, he strode onto the stage to the immediate wild cheers of the crowd. You took several slow, determined breaths.

“ _ Buuuuenas noches, bellezas! _ ” Mettaton called out to the audience, one hand on the mic. He struck a dramatic pose, pulling a smile from you and a roar of approval from the audience. “Ohhh yes darlings, it’s absolutely lovely to see you all as well…” He posed again. You bit your lip at the ecstatic cheering. “And have we got a  _ show _ for you. You are all familiar with our dear artist in residence - or you should be, really, are you living under a rock - more than we used to, anyways,” he chided. Your cheeks were flushed slightly at the genuine praise slipped in amongst his sass. “Glitz!  _ Glamour! _ All of the dazzling entertainment that is naturally associated with any production I touch! All of the magical fare that you all should absolutely be consuming throughout the night! Darlings, I present to you an evening that you won’t soon forget…” He murmured the last of his words into the mic, and opened his stance to gesture backwards. 

The lights on the stage dimmed and focused onto centerstage. With one last steadying breath, you slipped out of the shadows of backstage and strolled into the spotlight.

The shimmering gems pooling at the hem of your gown sparkled as they caught the light, giving the effect that you wore a gown made of a late dusky night framed by the stars just coming out. There was a sweeping gasp from the audience as you moved forward slowly, a small, alluring smile now gracing your features. You took Mettaton’s offered hand and swept into an elegant cross between a curtsy and a bow as you kissed it and winked at him.

“Thank you, Mettaton,” you said as he stepped back to allow you to speak into the microphone. “You never cease to strike earnest awe into every heart you pass - I couldn’t feel more blessed to perform here tonight, or more honored to have you introduce me to our lovely audience,” you continued. The audience cheered at your words, and Mettaton blew you a kiss as he effectively catwalked off the stage into the wings.

Your gaze returned to sweep over the audience. The difference in lighting still made it hard to pick out details, but you could observe your audience far better now. Most patrons cradled any one of a variety of drinks, and the area around the bar still pulsed with activity. The group closest to the stage held a number of familiar faces, but most interesting was the skeletal face not 10 feet from where you stood, right at the edge of the stage alongside a number of other ardent customers. More interestingly, this skeleton was not the one you were looking for - but stars above, was he an eager-looking one, absurdly tall and dressed to the nine’s in a slim-fitting charcoal suit with a crimson shirt visible behind his suit jacket.

You couldn’t stall to think further on that for now, though. “Now, I’m all for smooth words and charming sentiments, but I think we’d rather hear that kind of charm in a catchier way, no?” You said with a brilliant grin and  a broad gesture to the stage and band behind you. The audience roared their approval once more, and with a turn and wink to the band, the music began.

The dance floor pulsed with laughter and movement as you began singing to a fast-paced tune, and you swayed along as the excitement laced through every patron. Together you and the band moved and performed as one, transitioning smoothly from one song to the next, the first several a number of upbeat ones meant to get the infectiously excited passions of a live show with food and drink of the magical variety blazing. Your eyes caught on the skeleton at the front more than once - you were curious if he knew Sans at all, you could admit that much. He wore an outfit that all but matched his, and really, how many skeleton monsters were in the area anyways - but honestly you were primarily impressed and elated at how much this new face appeared to be enjoying himself. Like many of the patrons, he sang along with some of the more well-known classics, and like many of them he was less than on-key, but he could  _ move _ . He cut a quick step with random partners, surprising and delighting them with his viral good cheer. Then again, most of the crowd didn’t need much encouragement in enjoying themselves.

As your fifth song came to a close, you strode purposefully back towards the grand piano dominating stage right, sliding behind it and slipping behind the cover its raised top offered for a moment. You felt magic slip over you as the crowd murmured briefly in curiosity. You re-emerged languidly after the warm electric slip of magic had washed past you, eliciting another wave of impressed gasps from the audience.

You now wore a gauzy red gown, the straps slipping off your shoulders becomingly as the skirt of it flared out past your hips and draped your legs in crimson waves. The band picked up a slower number now, the rhythm swinging and sultry.

You crossed over to the mic again, dipping it for a moment as your lidded gaze swept over the crowd.

_ “When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway…”  _

The patrons on the dance floor had already shifted, matching their dance style to suit the spanish swing of the song. You danced amongst the lyrics, your dress flaring at your hips.

_ “Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more, _ ” you sung, heart pulsing with the music. Your voice dipped as you continued, and your hips twisted in time. Your eyes grazed the crowd - so far, nothing suspicious, you were relieved to see - and you even spotted Toriel tucked into a booth in the furthest corner, apparently watching the crowd. One of the stronghands for the bar stood just beside her table, you were relieved to see. 

Just before you continued into the chorus, you spotted Sans sitting at the edge of the dancefloor, a Bloody Mary on the table in front of him. Your gaze caught on his, and you felt that slight rush of a flutter through your gut. Focusing on the song, you shot him a wink.

_ “Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you. Only you have that magic technique - when we sway I go weak, _ ” you sung, your eyes lingering on him with a sly smile. You were determined to not be the only one affected here. His lazy grin widened, and he inclined his head just a fraction - the look in his eyes was heavy on you, and you shifted your gaze away. 

Oh, that kind of confidence boost felt  _ nice _ .

You sang through the rest of the song flawlessly, making sure you didn’t get too distracted on the job. The band led you through another handful of songs before at last it was time for one of your favorite moments at these performances. The song started as many others did, with the band laying into the intro with gusto while you danced to the beat - but now you were impishly scanning the faces of the closest members of the audience. Some of the regulars picked up on what was about to happen, and many of them pushed forward to get up against the stage. With a bright smile and a laugh, you started the first verse.

_ “Hey Jack, I know what you're thinking - that now's as good as any to start drinking. Hey Scotty, yeah, what's it gonna be? A gin and tonic sounds mighty mighty good to me! _ ” 

Your eyes rested on the tall skeleton still dancing in the front as you continued. 

_ “So, I think about my next drink, and it’s you and me and the bottle makes three tonight! _ ” You sang, then slipped from behind the mic. You reached down and offered your hand to the skeleton, a bright, inviting grin on your face. He met your gaze excitedly and pointed to himself as if to double check, and you laughed and nodded. He grasped your hand surprisingly carefully and stepped up onto the stage - it was at waist level for most people, but he was so tall that it barely reached the top of his thigh, you realized. He was careful to not support his weight on you, and as he rose to the cheer of the audience - and a few amicable groans of disappointed alternatives at the front - you tugged him further back onto the stage behind the mic. You glanced at the band, and those who had the attention to spare gave you a small nod - they’d loop the instrumental run a few times. 

Looking back up at the skeleton, you asked, “Care to dance, love?”

He swept into a gentlemanly bow and looked at you with excitement on his boney features. “IT WOULD BE MY HONOR, HUMAN!” He said with the heavy dip of a spanish accent and an incredibly eager voice. You started at his volume but smiled back at him - several members of the audience whooped in the background, and you swore you heard an eerily familiar voice yell something about him needing to dance with passion. You switched the way your hands were grasped, letting yours rest in his.

Without an awkward pause the skeleton started to lead you in a quick style that matched the pace of the fast-paced beat of the band’s music. He was even better than you had thought; his feet moved quickly and his hands were sure in yours, leading you skillfully without a sliver of doubt. You realized that the audience had begun cheering you on as you cut together across the stage, and now they were clapping in time. After a quick spin out and a deft twirl back in by his lead, you looked up at the skeleton leading you across the stage as he pulled you around in a joint spin. His face mirrored the thrilled delight that you realized was on your own. Your grin had gone wide with joy and your cheeks were flushed with exertion and excitement as you both pulled slightly apart in tandem to lead several swift and light kick-outs towards the audience. He spun you close again and you laughed as you cut across the floor one more time. He grinned brilliantly at you, his pride in himself oddly endearing. You squeezed his hands lightly and your eyes flickered over to the mic meaningfully. He nodded and cut you towards it, and bowed as you stepped away and back to the mic.

_ “Man, I know I gotta go, it's the same thing every time. But I don't think another drink's gonna make me lose my mind, _ ” you sang. You were nearly breathless, but you made it work for you as you finished out the song. The last draw of the band slowed everything down at the end, and the audience joined you at the final shout of the song - “ _ Man, whaddya mean it’s last call - I just got here! _ ” 

You stepped back at the cheering of the audience, pulling forward your skeleton partner who had been dancing alongside the trumpetist as you rounded the song out. “Everyone, give a big round of applause for my latest victim and a truly phenomenal dancer!” You called out to the audience. The audience didn’t let you down, and the skeleton at your side snickered proudly, an odd orange flush on his cheekbones. Just to him as the audience clamored, you said, “Truly, thank you - I haven’t had that much fun with an audience pull in a long time!”

He swept another bow to you, genteel and simultaneously bursting with grandeur. “THANK  _ YOU _ , HUMAN! IT’S AN HONOR TO DANCE WITH TALENT THAT NEARLY MATCHES MY OWN, AND ON THE SAME STAGE THE GREAT METTATON HAD GRACED JUST EARLIER!”

You laughed openly and warmly, his pride still intriguingly endearing. The fact that he seemed to hold only Mettaton higher than himself was somewhat hilarious and sweet, too. “Before you slip away, can I ask for your name?” you continued.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS, PROUD TO BE OF ACQUAINTANCE,” he responded with an audible wink. You supplied your own name, matching his wink a little less audibly.

Turning back to the mic, now, “I have one last request of our lovely guest,” you said, grinning at the now curious Papyrus. “I truly adored your technique on those spins earlier, and I think our audience did as well-” several wolf-whistles and cheers- “-would you mind gracing me with one final twirl and a dip?”

He looked confused for a split second but stepped back up without hesitation anyways, his bright smile still on his face. Behind you, the drummer rattled off a soft roll, and Papyrus took your hands for a moment and then spun you outwards.

As he did so your dress flared beautifully outward, rolling in a wide flare, and the shimmer of magic fell over you as the audience gasped once again. The color of your dress shifted through the colors of a fading sunset before settling on a midnight blue, the dress now a well-cut ordeal showing your curves, with a trail of gemstones matching the crystals of the ceiling and chandeliers above. Even Papyrus’ eyes widened as he pulled you back in, and you nearly  _ felt  _ the soft  _ oooo  _ of the audience as he dipped you, revealing the otherwise subtle slit that trailed up the dress along your leg and much of your thigh.

He pulled you back up and you lifted a hand to softly hook at the line of his jaw, careful to make sure he could pull back and refuse if he’d like. He bent down happily, however, his face still bright and curious. You pressed a small kiss to his cheekbone and he flushed orange again. You laughed softly as you pulled away, echoed by a roll of whistles and and cheers from the audience. 

“Thanks for being such a lovely sport, Papyrus,” you said to him. 

Still flushed but looking incredibly pleased, he straightened and pulled his jacket and tie smooth. “IT WAS MY PLEASURE! AFTER ALL, WE HAVEN’T EVEN HAD A DATE, AND I’VE ALREADY HIT THE FRIEND ZONE!” He said in reply. You started at his words, thrown off kilter. Staring carefully at him, you needed to figure out if - but no, he really was genuine in being elated to have danced together. 

So hey, it looked like you had a new friend.

You shook your head with a grin and a small laugh. You slipped your arm through his and strolled to the edge of the stage and let him free at the staircase while the audience clapped. “Head on over to the bar for a complimentary drink from Grillby for your trouble, Papyrus - I hope to see you soon,” you told him with a warm smile. You meant it, too - the skeleton’s good attitude and friendliness was infectious. 

“YOU WILL!” He said brightly before striding away. The absolute certainty in his tone was a slight bit surprising, but considering your position at the speakeasy you figured it wasn’t unwarranted. You strode back across the stage, very aware of the way your leg would slip briefly out of the slit as you moved. It seemed a lot of the audience was, too.

Back to the mic, “Well, I believe I’ve got some more in store for you all, if that’s alright with you folks,” you said to the audience with a wink. You were met with even more cheers now - Grillby was certainly doing an excellent job keeping the drinks flowing. Your eyes slipped back over to where Sans had been sitting earlier. He was still there, his drink now empty, and his gaze was quite clearly a little stuck on the part of your dress where your leg had been briefly visible. Your smile turned  _ very  _ confident.

“Let’s not keep you all waiting, then,” you said, stepping nearly flush with the mic stand. The movement left the slit of your dress draped just a sliver open against your leg.

* * *

Three costume changes and two hours later, and you were finally gratefully cradling the starry drink Grillby had crafted for you and making your way through a basket of fries. You had made your rounds already after you had finished the special show, thanking people for coming and even dancing your way through a few more songs before you had to excuse yourself. Various humans and monsters still approached you even so, and you weren’t about to send them off, so you enjoyed the moment of quiet in between visitors while you could, feeling the soft glimmer of the magic stars summoned by the drink twinkle around you.

“i thought it was usually the audience who was supposed to be left  _ starstruck _ .”

The grin had already slipped onto your face before you even turned to face Sans. You finished taking your sip of your drink and looked up at him. He was grinning back at you, wearing his usual charcoal suit and fedora and his crimson shirt and gloves, standing behind the single empty stool to your side. 

“True, but a good performance always leaves a  _ twinkle  _ in my eye,” you replied with a wink. You gestured at the stool beside you. He took your offer, sitting down and facing slightly towards you.

“seemed to me like you oughta be a little more  _ spaced out _ ,” he said. You tried not to snort into your drink as your smile widened. “what, was that one not  _ universal _ enough?” he continued without waiting for you to recover.

“Honestly I’d say your wordplay is  _ out of this world _ ,” you responded, looking him dead in the eye as the tiny stars around you did the winking for you.

His grin stretched. “that’s the best compliment i’ve ever had,” he said with a snicker.

“Yikes, I sure hope not,” you said with a laugh. You ate a few more fries as you waved to get Grillby’s attention, nodding at Sans once the bartender glanced over. Grillby nodded back, and you focused back on Sans.

“what, you think my puns aren’t my most redeeming quality?” he asked, feigning offense.

“Well, I won’t lie, they’re certainly up there,” you said with a sly grin. He looked like he was about to say something, then his brows pulled down as the potential implication of your words registered. You laughed again. “What, I thought that  _ you _ considered them to be your best quality!”

“they are,” he shot back with the return of his grin. “but i guess wouldn’t mind it if others saw anything else in  _ addition _ to that,” he said lightly. Grillby approached with a ketchup bottle and a questioning quirk to his flames. Sans nodded at him and accepted the bottle with a grin. Grillby shook his head amicably and walked away after he saw that you were still well-set.

“Well you’ve got a winning smile,” you responded, feigning thoughtfulness. He rolled the lights of his eyes. 

“‘ppreciate the thought, but I’m not sure if that counts,” he said, looking back at you with that trademark grin of his.

“Why wouldn’t it?” You asked, actually curious.

His brow bone perked up at your question. “really?” he asked. You nodded, lifting your own brow in response. “well, i know it’s not obvious at first look, but i’m kinda a skeleton,” he said with a chuckle. “pretty sure it’s the set of my jaw that determines my smile,” he continued.

You waved him off. “Not in the least,” you denied. He looked at you. “I’ve seen your face a good number of times over the past… month or two,” you said, trying to play it off casually. You looked away from his growing grin. “Anyways, you’ve frowned, or otherwise… have not smiled or grinned,” you continued. “So you clearly have  _ some _ control over your face. I mean really, I’m sure you do  _ something _ to be able to drink,” you added, staring seriously at the ketchup bottle in his hand. Sans never quite opened his mouth when he spoke, but you swore the smooth bone around his mouth moved as he talked - you just had no idea how much it  _ could _ move. And now you wanted to figure it out all over again. You focused harder on the ketchup bottle, trying desperately to not think too hard about it.

He lifted the bottle as you stared at it, and your gaze shifted to his face. His gaze was hard to read, but he looked you dead in the eye as he lifted the ketchup bottle to his mouth. 

Your eyes shifted from his to the tip of the ketchup bottle, disbelief clear in your face. Then, he opened his mouth.

Wow. Yes. His mouth definitely  _ could  _ open, you realized. He even had slightly sharp canines. You were distracted again as he placed the ketchup bottle in his mouth, and as the smooth bone at the corners of his mouth slipped inward, closing around the bottle - like lips. He tipped the bottle back further and drank a significant portion of the ketchup as your eyes widened.

You knew you were staring. But he was staring at you too, so that was probably fair. He finished his sip, popping the bottle out of his mouth and setting it back down on the bar. His mouth slipped back into his usual grin. You were still staring at it, you realized. Your gaze slipped back up to his rapidly as that fact registered.

His eyesockets were pulled up at the sides slightly, his grin wider than ever - he was laughing silently at you.

“You little-!” You gasped, blushing as you shoved lightly at him. He laughed openly now, his grin wide and unabashed as he actually opened his mouth to laugh, his teeth parted. You tried to stay mad at his teasing, you really did. But his deep laughter pulled at your own good humor, and you cracked a smile before laughter bubbled out of you as well.

“your, your face,” was all he could manage.

“Well, well excuuuse me,  _ bonehead _ , for not being aware of the intricacies of magical skeletons,” you said in between bouts of your laughter. Your sides ached, and you wondered if the exhaustion was making you delirious. You decided that you didn’t care either way as you started snickering again.

“when in doubt, the answer is magic,” he replied, a broad smirk on his face now. You rolled your eyes.

“I never would have guessed,” you said, still grinning. That curiosity still pulled at you though. “So… magic aside, does that mean your bones are… soft?” You ventured.

His smirk didn’t waver. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

You turned to face your fries, still unable to push down your own smile. “I think that’s what the question implied,” you retorted. “Ahhh, never mind. It was probably rude to ask, anyways-”

“RUDE TO ASK WHAT, NEW HUMAN FRIEND?”

You started at that, a fry falling from your hand back into the basket. You turned to look back over your shoulder. Behind Sans was Papyrus, one arm braced casually on Sans’ shoulder as he leaned slightly on him towards you.

“hey Paps.”

Your gaze moved between the two skeletons, narrowing slightly as you tried to work it out. Sans gaze was resting on you, his grin still wide. Papyrus was simply waiting for your response, his bright smile resting happily on his face.

“Er, ask about, a - ask about...” you attempted, now realizing that maybe it wasn’t quite good etiquette to ask skeleton monsters about the elasticity of their bones even if you were something akin to friends, or friendly acquaintances, or whatever it was you called two people who shared frequent banter and puns and general concern for their well-being alongside somewhat unabashed flirting-

“she wanted to ask if all skeletons drank ketchup,” Sans said as he took another sip of his condiment. You tried desperately to not stare at him for so many of a multitude of reasons.

Papyrus shuddered. “WELL I CERTAINLY HAVE BETTER TASTE THAN THAT,” he said emphatically, drawing back from Sans and eyeing the ketchup bottle with clear distaste. “MY CULINARY TASTES ARE IMPECCABLE, MUCHíSIMAS GRACIAS.”

You were recovering from your embarrassment and starting to smile at Papyrus’ words when Sans spoke up again. “you sure do, bro.”

Papyrus preened slightly as the words sunk in on your end. You narrowed your eyes at Sans.

“Wait.” You said. They both looked at you, Papyrus expectant, Sans unreadably laid-back. 

You felt like you were about to ask either a very valid question, or a very dumb one.

“Are you two brothers…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am _so_ happy to have finally gotten to introduce Papyrus into the story. Writing all these dancing/singing scenes has definitely been a challenge, so I hope they've been enjoyable to read! If you want a little insight into how Pap and Reader were dancing, I recommend looking up Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers... something like one of their fast-paced numbers, impressively enough~!
> 
> Papyrus has so many interpretations across the fandom, and I personally have had it in my head since coming up with this story that while he may be excitable (and definitely not the most quality of singers), he would actually be a _fantastic_ dancer. Considering that it's canon that he's actually incredibly strong (just too kind to ever use his full strength), it makes sense that he'd be pretty talented physically... especially when placed in this era, where dancing is so common, etc. I feel like he would have taken an interest in the Underground, but after coming up and as monsters integrated their culture into human's? He would have been all over that.
> 
> (And yes, you can _bet_ that was Undyne cheering him on in the background when he was pulled up onstage.)
> 
> Ah, and sidenote, I actually headcanon various voices for a number of the characters in this story, as I'm rolling with them all being bilingual with spanish being a heavy influence on their accent when they speak english. *coughs* Not going to lie, Antonio Banderas came to mind for Papyrus, what with the showmanship and all...
> 
> In any case, hoho! Reader is getting to finally piece some things together! Next chapter - well, I won't spoil it for you all, heh. Mettaton may have something of a field day, though... As always, please leave comments with your thoughts! It's so much more fun & exciting to write knowing that there are at least a few of you out there who are truly enjoying this story. <3


	7. It Takes Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“i have to admit, that was an impressive number of outfit changes,” he said._
> 
> _“Mettaton truly has a knack for flair,” you sighed in response. “You don’t even want to know how long I had to stand still for the fittings.”_
> 
> _He turned to look at you, his grin a little wider. “he didn’t use magic to get it right?”_
> 
> _You scoffed. “I wish. No, he said that getting them properly fitted would prevent ‘wardrobe malfunctions’,” you said, signing sardonic quotations in the air. “Which I appreciate, but still. That was a lot of pins in a lot of worrying places.”_
> 
> _He chuckled. “must be inconvenient to be a human - having to worry about getting pinched or poked like that,” he said with a shake of his head._
> 
> _You eyed him. “What, skeletons can’t feel things?”_
> 
> _He eyed you back. “oh, we can feel things,” he said._

You gritted your teeth as you stared over the heads of the patrons crowding the bar. Drinks flowed and the party had roared onwards even after your performance had finished. 

It still wasn’t quite loud enough in the speakeasy to drown out the laughter of the two skeletons next to you, though.

Papyrus was all but bent over Sans, his shoulders shaking as his boisterous laugh fell from him in a strange assortment of  _ nyeh _ ’s and  _ heh _ ’s. It almost would have pulled a laugh from you too, if it wasn’t for Sans’ reaction.

While Papyrus’ laughter had come after a few stunned moments following your question, Sans had simply stayed quiet, his grin spreading wider and wider as he stared at his bottle of ketchup. Papyrus had kept laughing, shooting you an incredulous and highly amused look when he could, and Sans had kept grinning until finally he had looked at your face, had seen your frustrated blush, and had chuckled. Your eyes had widened slightly at that, and then your brow had furrowed and your mouth went a little thin and your cheeks puffed out just  _ slightly  _ and then he was outright  _ laughing _ , the sound almost startled out of him, and his chest shook a little as the rumbling sound kept rolling out of him. He kept staring at you, now leaning his weight against the bar, apparently finding every kind of amusement in your frustration and vague embarrassment.

The worst part was,  _ they hadn’t answered you _ .

And now you really didn’t want to ask again.

You shifted your gaze back to the rest of the bar, seeking out Grillby while the two skeletons continued laughing beside you. Stars above, you needed another drink. You made a face when you saw that Grillby was preoccupied with another group a little ways down.

“PERHAPS SANS COULD SHARE HIS POOR TASTE IN DRINK WITH YOU, HUMAN,” Papyrus said, finally swallowing his laughter long enough to address you. He wiggled his brow bones as if he believed he was making the best of jokes, and you simply stared in return, your eyes narrowing slightly as you tried to get a read on him. He was still grinning brightly, and a few short, loud laughs escaped him. “SEE, I TOO HAVE THE JOKES,” he said proudly.

You bit your lip,  _ still _ not sure if they were brothers or not. Your gaze slipped to Sans, whose own laughter had finally died down even as he continued grinning in pleased disbelief at you. You had the feeling that the expression wasn’t a normal one for him and looked away after a moment, your face flushing even as you groaned and put your head in your hands.

“If my question was taken as a joke, it was  _ pun _ -intentional,” you finally admitted, masking your embarrassment the best way you knew how. Sans snorted next to you and Papyrus groaned.

“DON’T TELL ME THAT YOU ARE OBSESSED WITH PUNS, TOO,” Papyrus said, straightening up. “MY BROTHER IS BAD ENOUGH ALONE, HE DOESN’T NEED ANY ENCOURAGEMENT-”

“Wait, so you  _ are _ brothers?” You interjected before you could stop yourself. 

And there went Papyrus, laughing again. “OKAY, SO YOU DO HAVE GOOD JOKES AS WELL! EXCELLENT,” Papyrus said after a particularly exuberant laugh. 

“interestingly enough, Pap, i don’t think she’s joking,” Sans said, staring at you with that unreadable grin. You frowned and huffed out a sigh.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m going to assume that all skeleton monsters are related,” you said, still blushing. Should you have, though? Did you commit some sort of monster faux pas?

Sans shook his head. “most humans do assume that, actually,” he said simply, taking another sip of his ketchup. You tried not to focus on the movement again.

“INDEED, MOST HUMANS EITHER MAKE THE AUTOMATIC CONNECTION OR THEY NEVER ASK!” Papyrus said, crossing his arms and nodding.

You frowned. “That seems… problematic?” 

Sans shrugged. “seems most humans try to categorize things as simply as they can,” he said noncommittally. 

You shook your head. “You’re not wrong there. Still, I feel like - well, you know what they say about what it means to assume,” you said with a wry grin, turning your attention back to your forgotten fries.

“OOO, WHAT DO THEY SAY ABOUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ASSUME?” 

Halfway through a french fry, you froze. Your gaze went to Papyrus, who was leaning slightly towards you, honestly curious, and then to Sans, who was looking at you with a mischievous grin on his face, resting his chin in one hand.

“yeah, what  _ do _ they say, doll?”

Your blush returned as you narrowed your eyes at Sans. He simply gazed back casually, waiting for your response. You looked again to Papyrus. He sure was a fully-grown skeleton monster, but you hesitated regardless. It almost felt wrong to say it.

“Ah, never mind,” you said with a wave, looking back to your fries.

You could see Papyrus cock his head as he looked at you, a little confused. You tried not to register Sans’ expression. 

“SURELY THEY DON’T SAY ‘NEVER MIND,’” Papyrus said. You fought a groan again and took a steadying breath.

Looking back to the pair, you sighed, “... it makes an ass out of ‘you’ and ‘me’.”. 

A grin crept onto your features despite yourself as Papyrus narrowed his eye sockets, staring at you and mouthing your statement back thoughtfully.

After a few quiet moments, your smile growing further as now  _ you _ tried to stifle your laughter, Papyrus’ jaw hung down and a downright  _ scandalized _ look crossed his face.

“ _ PUNS!”  _ He breathed, one hand lifting to press against the breast of his crimson shirt. He almost looked betrayed. You weren’t sure your lungs would be able to handle biting back your laughter much longer.

“W-well, Papyrus, it’s more of a  _ wordplay _ situation,” you managed, trying to sound reasonable even as you were nearly breathless with silent laughter. Your gaze shifted to Sans, who was looking utterly thrilled at the conversation’s turn. 

“she’s right, Paps, you shouldn’t  _ sentence _ all jokes in that way,” he said lightly.

“WELL WHEN A GENTLE SKELETON SUCH AS MYSELF IS CONTINUALLY PLAGUED BY INCIDENTAL-” He paused. He turned to stare accusatorily at Sans. “SANS! MORE PUNS!”

“well when you ask me like that, i’m happy to  _ comma _ up with some more-”

“SANS!”

“Aw Papyrus, you shouldn’t  _ colon  _ Sans like that if you wanted anything else-” you jumped in with a grin to rival Sans own. He glanced at you, that mischievous twist to his expression pulling at a warm excitement in your own core.

“HUMAN FRIEND,” Papyrus groaned.

“you’ve got to admit, Pap, she knows how to turn a  _ phrase _ .”

“SANS.”

“The hardest part is making sure there’s a  _ point _ to your  _ exclamation _ ,” you offered to Sans amicably, winking. 

“CLEARLY YOU TWO ARE TOO PREOCCUPIED WITH TERRIBLE JOKES TO BE GOOD COMPANY, SO I AM GOING TO FIND FRIENDS WITH BETTER TASTE UNTIL YOU CAN GET YOUR ACTS TOGETHER,” Papyrus said dryly and quite loudly. You were laughing behind your hand at how completely  _ done _ the taller skeleton was with your antics, and at how even despite that Papyrus was  _ still _ smiling.

“Still, I’d say that you like our jokes  _ period _ , Papyrus,” you snickered. 

“I DO AND I HATE IT,” he retorted with an exaggerated movement of his facial features that you realized was meant to be an eye roll. Papyrus turned to Sans, then, framing his slim hips with his gloved hands - his gloves nearly matched Sans’, you noticed, though they were black instead of crimson. He wore suspenders as well, black ones, which you realized were probably pretty useful when you didn’t have flesh to support clothes well. Then again, there seemed to be a magic to the skeleton brothers’ bodies that defied your assumptions. Your mind briefly drifted to the time you had run headlong into Sans’ body, how intriguingly  _ sturdy _ he was when you would have otherwise assumed he’d be light and, well, boney-

“TRY NOT TO RUIN MY NEW FRIEND WITH YOUR TERRIBLE HUMOR, SANS,” Papyrus said, snapping you out of your reverie. You tried to focus back on the conversation and ignored the pleasant roll of feelings through your core. “SHE IS VERY NICE AND DANCES AND SINGS AND CERTAINLY DOESN’T NEED TO BE SCARRED BY PUN USAGE.” He had a shrewd look on his face. Sans closed one eye socket and shrugged amiably at him. You covered the smile spreading once more across your face with a hand.

“whatever you say, Pap. i’ll  _ letter _ choose the topic, if that helps,” he said, his gaze flicking to you to gauge your reaction. Your choked laugh didn’t let him down.

“AND NOW I AM LEAVING,” Papyrus said with an exasperated look on his face. He walked swiftly away, shaking his head and making his way towards the dance floor.

“Poor Papyrus,” you said, not feeling particularly guilty at all. From the look on Sans’ face, he felt the same way.

“he’s always been a little  _ tense _ around puns in the  _ past _ ,” Sans replied. 

You eyed him. “Did you just…?”

He chuckled. “i did just.”

You shook your head in disbelief, impressed. “And you said that  _ I _ kept raising the  _ bar _ ,” you said, knocking on the countertop in an echo of your conversation some run-ins prior. 

“takes two to  _ tango _ ?” he offered, gaze flicking to the dancefloor and back to you. 

You popped a fry in your mouth thoughtfully, then looked back at him. “Bit of a stretch, but I’ll let it  _ slide _ ,” you said with a wiggle of your brow.

He shook his head. “now look who’s stretching,” he said. You shrugged, finally finishing off the last of your fries.

You had to bite back the risque reply you wanted to give him, a flush rising to your face as it crossed your mind. He noticed, his own brow lifting in curiousity. Determined, though, you decided you didn’t want to cross that line.

Sans caught Grillby’s gaze then, thankfully, and lifted his ketchup bottle in request. You looked up in time to catch Grillby’s nod, and nodded in turn when his gaze went to you and your now-empty glass. 

Drinks effectively ordered, the two of you settled into an amicable silence. You gazed out over the room - it was still packed, and the band was picking up a fast-paced song that had the floor all but shaking with the movement of the crowd on the dancefloor. 

“nice performance, by the way.”

Your gaze pulled quickly back to the skeleton at your side. He was also looking at the audience. His usual grin still rested easily on his face, but his gaze seemed like it wasn’t resting anywhere in the room.

“Thanks,” you replied, pleased. A slight heat tinged your cheeks. The way he had been staring at you earlier as you sang returned to your mind, and you bit back an elfin smile.

“i have to admit, that was an impressive number of outfit changes,” he said. 

“Mettaton truly has a knack for flair,” you sighed in response. “You don’t even  _ want _ to know how long I had to stand still for the fittings.”

He turned to look at you, his grin a little wider. “he didn’t use magic to get it right?”

You scoffed. “I wish. No, he said that getting them properly fitted would prevent ‘wardrobe malfunctions’,” you said, signing sardonic quotations in the air. “Which I appreciate, but still. That was a lot of pins in a lot of worrying places.”

He chuckled. “must be inconvenient to be a human - having to worry about getting pinched or poked like that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You eyed him. “What, skeletons can’t feel things?”

He eyed you back. “oh, we can feel things,” he said. Something about the way his words swung hit you low in your belly, and you were suddenly very ready for Grillby to return with your drink. “... but we don’t have to worry about  _ that _ sort of thing,” he said with a wave, indicating the pain of being poked by holding pins and the like. 

Grillby stepped up then as if you had successfully summoned him, sliding a fresh ketchup bottle to Sans and offering you your shimmering, starry drink. You murmured a sincere thanks to your friend, who looked at you curiously for a moment as you took a grateful draught of the drink. Soft stars flickered into existence in a cloud around your head, and you felt the oddly sweet pull of your sight as the room took on a soft glow and your pupils turned star-shaped. Grillby looked to Sans, who was watching the magic take effect around you. The bartender shook his head with a knowing flicker to his flames and stepped back towards another group of customers.

“I’d say I appreciate it overall, though,” you finally replied as you set down your drink and turned your starry gaze back to the skeleton. The drink warmed you to your core, and you enjoyed the way Sans’ gaze kept flicking to the twinkling stars around you and back to your eyes.

“what’s that?” he asked.

“Appreciate… this,” you said simply, gesturing to your body. You let your movement trace your outline a little slower than necessary, a little closer than was quite called for. Sans followed the path of your hand, his face not betraying anything, but certainly not pulling his attention back to your own face in any particular hurry. “Being human has its perks,” you concluded.

“perks,” he agreed noncommittally, finally pulling his gaze back up. He took a deep drink from his ketchup before speaking again. “seems like you have a particular knack for making it all work for you, more than most humans,” he commented.

“As you’ve noted before,” you replied with a grin.

He nodded, his own grin matching yours. “i’m not bad at noticing things, myself,” he said. “but this is part of your job here,  _ cierto _ ?”

“ _ Eso es _ ,” you intoned with a wink. “Performing is a big piece of it, and my  _ knack _ suited the needs of  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ \- as I mentioned before, Mettaton had heard of me from Muffet a few times, and eventually scouted me to perform here a few times a month. It went on from there until I became a full resident performer here,” you explained.

“i’m sure Muffet loved that,” Sans mused with a chuckle. You laughed in response.

“It was an interesting transition… I was a little nervous to eat there for a while after I transitioned to working solely at  _ Del Alma _ , but thankfully any issue she had seemed to rest more with Mettaton for stealing me away,” you chuckled. “She seemed to understand that the money and opportunity was a little better for me here, and I still perform occasionally there, when I can.”

Sans nodded, regarding you with an appearance of laziness, but you caught the sharp consideration below it. “especially when you working here means you catch some of the bigger threats to monsters,” he said.

You considered him carefully. The room seemed to have shrunk to just the two of you sitting nearly elbow-to-elbow, and you didn’t quite care. “I do my best to keep an eye out for those who would do  _ Del Alma  _ harm,” you replied.

“who would do your family harm,” he said, referring knowingly to your previous conversation.

You nodded, humming softly. “I’m glad my skills come in handy in that way,” you said, low. “I love performing too, of course,” you added. “Singing, dancing, connecting with everyone in the way you can on stage and in the audience - it’s one of my greatest joys,” you said. Your expression was soft and your voice softer.

Sans voice rumbled a soft hum in response. “i can tell.”

You laughed softly, the flush of your cheeks warming you to your bone. “Yes, I hear that I tend to put a lot of my heart into my performances,” you said. You knew it was true, and you didn’t mind at all.

“that kind of  _ soul  _ doesn’t come out so naturally for a lot of  _ el pueblo _ .”

You shrugged with a small smile. “I feel for them. I used to not be able to be so comfortable like this, performing or otherwise.”

He looked curious now. “you’ve been performing for a long time?”

You swirled the shimmering liquid in your glass, studying the contents. “Yes and no. My birth family was… not a kind group of people,” you admitted. “Each day was something of a performance just to make it through with as little incident as possible.” You didn’t look at Sans. You didn’t feel like you could with your chest so tight, the memories of your childhood bristling too close. “It didn’t always work, of course. But I think that’s part of how I became so good at reading people. It was something of a survival skill,” you murmured. You took a sip of your drink, appreciating the comforting, warm tingle of magic slipping through you. “I did always like to sing, though. I couldn’t do it openly very often, but whenever I was able to... late at night, I’d crawl out of the fire escape and head to the roof just to sing to the stars. I’d pretend they were winking back at me, telling me that they knew, they knew, and that I’d be able to sing to them openly some day.”

You stared into the shimmering depths of your drink. These memories were slightly less painful than some, but a melancholy slipped through you regardless. It was better than the anger and pain that other memories brought, especially back when everything was still fresh, before you had made friends, before you had found yourself drawn into the community of monsters not that long after they had been freed… but now, now you had a family - a real one, one that you  _ chose _ , and that had chosen you back.

You felt a gentle touch against your arm. Surprised, you glanced over - Sans forearm had slipped along the bar and now laid alongside yours. His charcoal suit jacket was surprisingly soft to the touch, the sturdy material clearly well-cared for and a little worn. The cuff of the sleeve of his crimson shirt had slipped out of the cuff of his jacket, and there was a slip of a gap between it and his gloves. You could see just a glimpse of the bones of his wrist. They were far thicker than you would have imagined.

“you made it,” he said softly. You looked up at his face. He was gazing back at you, his grin barely there. There was something heavy in his gaze, like he could see right through you and back again, like he had seen things that echoed your own pain. The room still felt like it had narrowed to only you and him, to your gazes locked and your left forearm resting gently against his right. Your heart beat a little painfully, your chest still feeling too tight, but it was a different kind of tightness, a warmer one full of something… bright.

“I suppose I did,” you replied.

“i’m glad.”

That tight feeling pulsed a little. “... Me too.”

Your gazes held for just a moment longer.

The room thrummed with movement and sound then, the band growing louder with the start of a new song. Sans looked away, lifting his ketchup bottle once more, and you took a deep sip of your own drink. 

A small smile pulled at your lips as the stars twinkled brightly around your head once more.

With a sweeping look over the room once more, you let the content warmth of the moment lull you a little. Your arm still rested against Sans’, or vice versa, and you swore you saw a genuine pull to his own grin.

At the edge of the dance floor then, your eyes caught on a tight group of human men. Just a handful, maybe only three. They were dancing, shifting in place really, and they wore easy looks on their faces. Your expression tugged slightly as you watched them, and one of them shifted to move their hand to their pockets. A glint of gold at his breast caught the light.

“Damn,” you breathed. Sans looked at you, his brows raising for a moment, then his gaze slid to where yours was trained. He caught on quickly.

“you caught something?” he said, low.

Your mouth pulled in a grim line. “Maybe. I’m guessing this is why you are here… and Papyrus, too,” you said, eyes slipping to his for a brief moment.

His grin was tense. “well, the entertainment was a substantial perk,” he replied.

You laughed. “Glad to hear that,” you shot back, just a flash of mirth in your expression before turning serious again. “I’ll go check it out.”

Sans leaned forward, gaze flicking from the men back to you. His arm was pressed a little more firmly against yours now. He searched your gaze for just a moment. 

“... alright. signal if anything is suspicious,” he said. His hand shifted, resting briefly over your wrist as he finished speaking. His gloves were supple and worn, the stitching tight against the warm leather. 

You nodded at him. In a smooth movement you stood, your dress shifting readily into place. It was the same dress you had finished your performance in, a dusky black number with lace overlay, a splash of color like the last vestiges of a sunset flaring at the hem with matching beading that caused the dress to flow beautifully around your legs. The lace overlay was all that covered your shoulders and arms beyond the gown’s straps. It was far more elegant than you would usually dare to dance on the open floor in, but it suited the night well and you couldn’t ignore the confidence you felt in yourself. You slipped on your ready expression of a good-humored hostess and friend, sparing one last glance for the skeleton at your side. In a small impulsive movement, you rested your hand on Sans’ shoulder. You met his gaze and gave him an easy wink. He grinned at you, leaning back against the bar, but you could feel just a slight tension through his shoulder. 

You were both on the job.

Without lingering further, you made your way towards the dance floor. You strode languidly and lightly, tossing out sociable greetings to regulars and newer faces as you made eye contact. You lingered when appropriate and steadily made your way around various tables under the pretense of making your usual rounds of greetings and conversations. You wanted to approach the group, but knew better than to head to them immediately - if they truly were part of a rival gang, especially  _ Il Sangue _ , they would be too wary of such an advance. 

It was providence that brought you up to Papyrus next. He was exiting the dance floor, and his face brightened beyond its usual joy as he caught sight of you. You brightened as well, happy on multiple fronts.

“HELLO, DEAR HUMAN FRIEND!” He greeted, crossing one hand over his waist and bowing slightly. You lifted a hand to your mouth and giggled despite yourself at his continued chivalry.

“Hello to you too, Papyrus,” you greeted amicably. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a dance?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“OF COURSE! I WAS ABOUT TO GO CHECK ON MY BROTHER, BUT I’M HAPPY TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU AS WELL,” he replied enthusiastically. He offered you his arm and you took it, stepping towards the dance floor.

The band had started a slightly slower song, and Papyrus rested his right hand on your hip as you spread your left hand against his chest. His shoulder was a little too high - your head barely reached it, after all. While less energetic than your previous dance on stage, he led you just as skillfully, his feet never missing a step as he twirled you across the floor. You kept your eyes trained on the crowd when you could, noting that the group of men had obtained a few partners and were now dancing near the edge of the floor. 

Your eyes went back to Papyrus, a smile on your lips. “You really are a phenomenal dancer,” you said.

Papyrus laughed proudly, but you saw a dusting of orange on his cheekbones. “THANK YOU! I MEANT MY EARLIER WORDS AS WELL - YOU ARE QUITE SKILLED TOO,” he complimented easily. You smiled brightly as he twirled you fluidly. The group of men seemed set enough to dance through the song, you saw as you settled back into the steps of the dance.

“So you work with your brother?” You asked, looking up at Papyrus once more. 

He nodded. “INDEED! SANS CAN BY QUITE THE LAZYBONES SO I HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO,” he sighed dramatically. You grinned. “BUT HE’S WORKED A LITTLE HARDER SINCE WE CAME TO THE SURFACE, SO THAT’S SOMETHING.”

That plucked at your curiousity. “What did you two do before coming to the surface?”

“I WAS A SENTRY AND WAS TRAINING TO BE A PART OF THE ROYAL GUARD,” he said proudly. “AND SANS SLACKED OFF AT MULTIPLE JOBS, INCLUDING BEING A SENTRY AND SELLING QUESTIONABLE SNACK FOODS,” he said with the exaggerated expression that indicated he was rolling his eyes. “HE ALSO WORKED AS A SCIENTIST, THOUGH HE HAD STOPPED DOING THAT ALTOGETHER FOR SOME TIME.”

Somehow, both of those things fit the brothers very well, and you were really curious about the science side of things. You filed that away for now. “That must have made for an interesting transition,” you said. You didn’t want to push too hard - most monsters didn’t seem to like to dwell too long on their time before coming to the surface. You certainly couldn’t blame them.

Papyrus nodded. “THE SURFACE IS… QUITE DIFFERENT THAN ANY OF US HAD EXPECTED,” he admitted, spinning you deftly around a few couples who were a little too inebriated to be aware of their surroundings. “WHILE THE ROYAL GUARD WAS DISBANDED, I ENDED UP BECOMING A WELL-RESPECTED AND HIGHLY LAUDED FORM OF GUARDSMAN REGARDLESS,” he said, the boisterous pride returning to his tone.

You nodded, not needing to state his employing group out loud. “You and Sans are working tonight, right?” You said, more softly.

Papyrus’ gaze shifted to yours. His face was still bright and lively, but his gaze told you how alert and aware he was. “INDEED,” he replied, studying your expression.

A serious sort of smile crossed your face. “As am I,” you said meaningfully. He didn’t reply as he led you in a few more deft movements across the floor, but he nodded. It was strangely jovial. You had a feeling that a lot of people underestimated Papyrus. You had a further feeling that underestimating Papyrus was a certain mistake.

“SANS LET ME KNOW OF YOUR POSITION,” he said. That made things easier. “IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO ASSIST YOU?” He asked. You nodded, your eyes shifting meaningfully towards the men still along the back of the dance floor. His gaze shifted to follow yours, and he began leading you casually towards them. 

“I apologize for needing to cut our time together a little short,” you said softly. You meant it, too - Papyrus was a delight to be around. He grinned back at you, his face then plastering with saddened understanding.

“IT IS TRULY A TRAGIC LOSS ON YOUR BEHALF TO HAVE TO PART WITH ONE AS GREAT AS I SO SOON,” he said with a knowing nod. “PERHAPS IF YOU ARE LUCKY, WE SHALL GET TO DANCE AGAIN LATER!”

You grinned up at him. “I would consider myself very lucky indeed,” you replied. The song drew to a close moments later, and you stepped back from Papyrus with a squeeze of his hand. He bowed again before quickly departing towards the bar. Your eyes followed his jaunty stride for a moment, admiring the consistent surety with which he did everything.

Turning your gaze, you realized he had left you just a few couples away from the small group of men. You shook your head at his clever move - they were less likely to regard you suspiciously this way, as you would simply appear to be looking for a new partner. 

Slipping past the couples in the way, you caught the eye of one of the men. His dancing partner had taken off, possibly to get a new drink, so you stepped up to him with a bright and understanding smile. 

“Looks like we’re both in need of a partner,” you said with a soft laugh. “Care to join me for a round?”

The band picked up a classic as you spoke, fast-paced and drawing more patrons towards the floor as they cheered in recognition. The man you spoke to was blonde with dark eyes and a scar on his chin, and he looked surprised to see you. He nodded then, returning your smile.

“I’d be honored,” he said. He took up your hands, opting for a slightly less close style of dance for the song. His feet moved fairly quickly, but simply, so you made sure to only slightly exceed his skill level in your own movements. “Thank you for such a ball of a show, earlier,” he said after a few moments and a twist on your end.

You met his gaze cheerfully. “Oh it’s my pleasure to perform for such a stellar crowd,” you replied. You turned in a spin, and when you returned you rested one hand on his lapel. Your gaze shifted towards your feet, as if you were being careful of where you put them. Meanwhile, you let your hand slip slightly against his jacket, as subtly as you could. “Do you come by often?” you asked genially, lifting your gaze to his again. He was staring at you, but answered quickly enough.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he replied with a charming smile. You laughed, the sound natural even as you faked it.

Sliding your gaze around the nearby area, you noted that his two partners were still there, their eyes shifting over the room as well as they moved obligingly with their somewhat tipsy partners. Your hand shifted upwards a little, as if you were readjusting your hold.

You felt the small bump of some kind of pin underneath his jacket.

“Care to join me for a drink?” 

Your eyes shifted in surprise to him at his question. “Sure,” you replied, not wanting to seem preoccupied. He stepped back and offered you his arm. You rested your hand on it, not wanting to loop your arm through his. His gaze shifted to his partners, and he smiled at them. Without missing a step, he began to lead you out of the dance floor and towards the back of the room.

“Everyone always says that you make the rounds everytime you perform, dancing with a number of customers, but I never thought I’d be lucky enough to be one of them,” he said with a laugh as he guided you successfully out of the crowd. The pair of you made it to the edge of a small alcove just before the back wall turned to booth seating. He stopped to catch his breath and run a hand through his hair. You laughed as your gaze went towards the bar.

“It’s honestly one of my favorite parts of the job,” you said with a smile, fairly truthfully. Your eyes caught on the edge of the bar. Sans was already staring at you, and Papyrus had taken your spot next to him. You nodded, ever so slightly.

Your gaze shifted back to the man at your side as soon as you saw Sans begin to stand. The man met your gaze casually.

“Well that’s good,” he replied with a bland smile. “After all, like I said… I really lucked up,” he continued.

Confusion crossed your face for just a moment. 

Without warning, a hand covered your mouth as another grabbed your free arm. The hand at your mouth held a small cloth with a pungent liquid soaked into it. You immediately held your breath, your eyes going wide, and you made to wrench your hands free. The blonde man was gripping the hand you had on his arm, though, and your other was equally tightly grasped.

“The funny thing about busy nights is that there are even fewer people there to pay attention to what’s happening,” the blonde man said lightly. Your eyes flashed urgently across the audience. The crowd was as densely packed as it had been throughout the night, and everyone was too busy dancing and drinking to notice your obscured form behind whoever was holding the cloth over your mouth. You couldn’t see Sans or Papyrus, either. It seemed like something was happening in the room, closer to the bar - you dimly registered some shouting as your lungs screamed for air.

Desperate, you tried to stomp on the foot of the man behind you, but he shifted quickly enough and held you tighter, twisting your arm behind your back painfully. Your vision was going white around the edges, and you searched the rolling crowd one last time. Your lungs felt like they were going to burst and you took an unwitting drag of air, nearly choking on whatever drug was soaked in the cloth.

“Thanks for making my job easier,” the blonde man added as your vision faded out. Your body went limp as you felt them begin to move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's that time in the arc of the fic...
> 
> I have a lot of things I want to say but I am determined to not spoil anything coming up, so I'll keep it short this chapter :) I want to push updates back to being on the weekend, but I got hit like a train with some kind of demonic cold/fever crossover and couldn't even look at a screen... and updating two fics with decently substantial chapters a week takes a fair amount of time, surprising precisely no one, haha. Still coming out of it, so I'll do my best to push the next chapter up a little and get it back to the weekend <3
> 
> Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments on the last chapter - I'm so excited that you've been enjoying the story thus far, and your words keep me going! Things are really rolling now, and won't be stopping any time soon... good luck, Reader, I think you might need it~


	8. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sans had extended his hand, his crimson glove now coated in a blue glow that matched his eye._
> 
> _“d e c i s i ó n e q u i v o c a d a.”_

The roar of a car motor was all you could register for a stuttering gap of time.

The voices hit you next - men, angry, and only half-hushed. An insistently piercing throb in your head came next, and the sudden wave of pain and nausea made you silently dry heave. 

Everything else crashes around you then - the lingering smell of the sickly tart drug that had been pressed to your mouth and nose, the rough bite of rope cutting the circulation of your wrists tied behind your back, the disconcertingly soft caress of a strip of cotton cloth covering your eyes, the shifting inertia of a car’s movement, the rub of some kind of rough, beaten upholstery against your face, side, legs, smelling of old dirt, sweat, rusty iron…

Your stomach lurched again as you recognized the rusted metallic smell as being that of spilled blood, however dried. The car you were in took a sharp corner then and your focus went to fighting to keep your balance on your side. You bit your lip to quiet your soft grunt, realizing that you desperately hoped that the men wouldn’t notice that you were awake - but you lucked up, as at least two of them swore loudly as the car turned. 

Cotton still clouded your mind, but you struggled through it. As discreetly as possible, not sure if one of the men was turned to watch you, you shifted to where your nose wasn’t pressed against the floor of the car and took several deep breaths to better clear your head. The scent of the drug rolled through your gut again, but it was faint enough that you were able to push past it.

The speakeasy, you remembered. Dancing with the blonde. Stopping in the alcove, catching Sans’ eye, the man appearing behind you with the drug while the blonde helped keep you from moving…

A twisted scowl flashed across your face to match the anger and dread in your chest. Those  _ bastards. _

Had anyone caught them? Your mind raced - you didn’t know why they kidnapped you, for intel or retribution or otherwise - but no matter what, it was bad news. Vaguely, you recalled some kind of commotion right as you were passing out. A distraction, maybe. It wasn’t like they could have just waltzed past the guards with you over their shoulders. 

If they had gotten past the guards, though, if their commotion had been successful, or successful enough… your chest felt too tight. You did  _ not _ want to think of that as a possibility. Not yet. There was a sharper ache then as you thought of Sans - with a vengeance that startled even yourself, you hoped that he had caught at least a glimpse of them with you.

The car took another sharp turn, the thin tires screeching against ill-paved roads as another one of the men swore. You heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked, and suddenly the air in the car shifted, blowing and whirling wildly - they must have rolled a window down.

The gun went off, several times, the crack of the shots whipping through the car mercilesly. Your heart froze.

More swearing, and the air stilled once more after the furious pump of the window crank. 

“Some kinda shield  _ demon _ , boys,” one of the men snarled, breathless. You wanted to snarl right back at the slur he had spat. He must have been the one who leaned out to take the shot.

Wait.

If he had tried to take a shot, then that must mean…

“Can’t shake ‘em off our tail yet,” another one groaned. 

A fierce pride in what might as well have been your extended family filled your breast, alongside something that was dangerously close to hope. There was a hot prickle of wetness at the corner of your eyes. You shook it away. With it shifted your blindfold, and you abruptly were able to get a sliver of a view of your surroundings. 

You were in the open-style trunk of a surprisingly new model of car, facing towards the hatch-style back of it with the rear end of the back seat behind you. Very, very dimly reflected in the window at the top half of the hatch door were the backs of the heads of four men. One was driving and the other was in the passenger seat moving in a way that seemed to imply he was reloading his gun.

None of them were looking back towards you.

“Don’t go the usual route,” the one with the gun hissed at the driver. 

You had to help. For your own sanity, and to help whoever was on the chase. To help you, too, but you tried not to think too hard about the consequences if you were caught by the men. You gritted your teeth and searched desperately for something to help you escape or fight, anything, as you discreetly struggled against the tie at your wrists.

Your reward for your struggle was just the hard pain of a deeper rope burn on your wrists, which you suspected had been started well before you regained consciousness. 

Something hit the car then, send it squealing and skidding across the road. One of your legs shot out instinctively to brace yourself against the trunk as the men in the front swore viciously again. You felt the wind pick up in the car again as the car straightened. At the same moment, your foot shifted slightly as something beneath it gave way.

Looking down in surprise, you realized that your foot was wedged against the socket for the taillight. It was pushed in slightly, and you felt the slight chill of rushing air concentrated there even as the air in the car as a whole whipped up as the gunman readied himself. 

Your body worked almost instinctually. You heard the gun cock, and you pulled your leg up just slightly, scooting closer to the taillight, waiting -

The man shot, the sound cracking through the car, and you kicked. The shattering pop of the taillight busting out mixed imperceptibly with the man’s following shots, and the wind picked up harder around your foot and you tensed, waiting to see if they had noticed… but now the other men were loading guns, attention on whomever was chasing you. You felt a brief moment of mixed relief at this - but it passed. 

Now what.

Your heart raced as you heard the man up front swear as he pulled his torso back in the car, but the wind only rushed through the car harder as you heard the windows of the back seat crank down. A gun much closer to you went off.

“A right, up here!” The man up front barked at the driver. A few moments passed, and the car took a sharp right. You heard something screeching behind the car a short handful of seconds later. “Two down and a left,” the man ordered again.

A stroke of insight, and you knew what to do.

Twisting your ankle painfully and bending your knee in ways it didn’t quite want to go, you managed to get your foot out the hole left by the missing taillight. You tried hard to not think about how ridiculous your foot looked on the outside now, still done up in a heel. You needed to focus, to make this clear. Breathing deeply and letting your dress hitch up slightly, you counted the intersections you passed - marked by a rough screech of avoiding traffic, horns blaring around you - and as soon as you were through the second, you twisted your foot so that your toes pointed to the left. A few seconds later, the car screeched in its turn and veered to the left. Again a handful of seconds passed, then a faint screech amidst the honking horns behind you again. Shots rang out from your kidnappers.

“Hang a right,” the man up front said before the wind obscured the end of his words as he clearly leaned out again. You twisted painfully, your foot now pointing the other way, the sharp metal of the car’s lining cutting into your skin. 

Quicker this time you heard the screech of a pursuing car behind you.

One of the men closer to you swore again. “How in the fuck are we supposed to get the dame to the hole when-” 

“Next left-” cut the man’s words off, and you pointed your foot again. Even quicker, hardly two beats behind your turn, came the drifting screech of your pursuants. 

“Focus on your bullets,” barked the man up front again. With the adrenaline and pain coursing through you, you realized at last that it sounded like the blonde man, with all hint of his former blandly charming facade dropped. Anger boiled through you, but you concentrated on your task. “Right!” He said, voice nearly lost as he leaned out once more. His shots and the shots of the man in the backseat on the opposite side rang out. Your foot trickled with blood as you twisted to match their instructions, and you bit at your cheek. 

The next shriek was blood-curdling and human, and it came from one of the men closer to you. 

You felt the car seat at your back shake with movement - the second man in back swore as he apparently pulled the other back in, the metallic scent of blood strong in the air as it whipped through the car, then the blonde up front yelled “ _ right- _ ” again and you shifted to match the direction, the car nearly rolling as it took the turn a moment later but there it was again, the sound of a car on your tail now only a beat behind you-

“Is that a god-damned  _ bone- _ ” you heard the blonde swear, then the bit-down screams of another man- pleading, pleading to not move it, while his backseat companion sounded lost and horror-struck all at once as he tried to figure out what to do. 

“Do you know how to get to the wharf from here-?” you heard the blonde say to the driver. You didn’t hear a response from the driver because then the blonde was swearing and now the gunshot came from  _ inside  _ of the car.

Your head twisted because  _ why would he do that _ and finally, finally the blindfold fell fully off, and through the thin windows above your body closer to your feet you saw a car racing at your side. An enormous fish woman was leaning out one door even as it raced down the street and you realized that it was Undyne, her crimson hair whipping out behind her like a streak of fire and blood and suit jacket seeming discarded, her crimson sleeves rolled to the elbow as one hand grasped a handle inside the car and the other lifted an electric blue spear. Out the other side leaned another figure, one partially obscured by the car, but your heart  _ throbbed _ as you caught the familiar twist of Sans face-

And it skipped a beat wholly when you caught the flash of blue fire in his left socket. His right was completely dark, and his grin was stretched wide and tight. You had no idea how he was balancing well-enough out the other side of the car, but you felt a twist in your gut when you saw the easy and smooth way he leveled a tommy gun at the front of the car. 

His gaze flashed through the car, searching for something, and for just a moment he caught your gaze. There was something that twitched in what you would only be able to describe as  _ relief _ on his face at that moment, but then the tight grin was back and his eyes were tight and almost wild as his gaze flashed forward to the front of the car. With a shudder and far too much desperate hope you dragged your foot back in, hissing at the pain but trying to ready yourself for the worst.

Only a few seconds had passed since they pulled up beside you. The blonde was swearing again now. There was the clatter of a discarded pistol, and another shot rang out - this time the driver swore, but the blonde apparently paid him no mind as he emptied his chamber towards the adjacent car. There was movement in the backseat again and you heard the rattle of a gun, of a tommy gun being lifted - there was a flash of green as Undyne’s spear shifted and blocked the following shots, and in a blink the blue hue returned to it and with a blur of movement it crashed through the car and you heard the crunch of bone and the wet, bloody gasp of the second man in the back seat. You flinched, but a guilty satisfaction slipped through you.

“Wanna test me any more _ , pendejos?!”  _ You heard Undyne’s roar whipped into the rushing air even as it vibrated through the shell of the car. The driver apparently stepped on the gas at that, and you rolled with the burst of speed the car took on. Your shoulder smashed into the hatch door of the trunk, causing you to swear. Your ankle throbbed, and you grit your teeth as you looked back at the car to your side.

Sans had extended his hand, his crimson glove now coated in a blue glow that matched his eye. 

“ _ d e c i s i ó n   e q u i v o c a d a _ .”

His voice echoed through the car and before the shiver could even run down your spine you felt the car lurch. Blue obscured any clear sight out of the car. The driver shouted and the blonde tried to fire off further rounds, but the car at your side didn’t seem to be there anymore. You rolled backward as inertia dragged you towards the front of the car. 

You heard commotion up front and you almost sat up, you wanted to see what was happening, but the spiking pain and a gut feeling stopped you-

“I’ll shoot the broad,” you heard the blonde snarl loudly.

Everything went deathly still. The men in the backseat were no longer conscious, and the men up front held still as they presumably faced whatever was in front of the car now. You didn’t move a hair. 

You had the distinct impression that a gun was leveled in your direction.

Moments passed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” the blonde called out. You could almost feel the tremor in his body through the car, but his voice was snide. “So just let the car down, and maybe we won’t have to-”

A crack and the shattering of glass happened at almost the same time he screamed.

Suddenly the car dropped, just a fraction, bouncing as it hit the ground. The wheels didn’t even have the time to dig in as the blue glow dissipated before you caught a flash of a different kind of blue - Undyne’s spear, striking straight through one of the front wheels. A second pierced the rear wheel on the same side only a moment later. 

You heard the doors wrenched open and Undyne snarled, the sound nearly in the car. From the sound of the pained scream, you guessed she had just wrenched the blonde from the front seat.

“OUT YOU GO!” You heard Papyrus’ voice now, his jovial tone taking on a dark color even as you could almost picture his usual bright smile. You heard a stammering protest - the driver, probably, but the car jostled slightly and his voice was removed. 

The trunk’s hatch door opened then, snapping open with alarming speed. You squinted at the rush of backlighting behind the figure that now stood in front of you.

“Sans,” you said, simply. You didn’t know if you could pin what emotions were rolling through you, even as your voice caught in your throat. You couldn’t quite make out his features with the light of a bright streetlamp behind him, but then he was stooping and his gaze was roving quickly over you, his trademark grin nowhere to be found as a dark frown had replaced it. His eyesockets behind the lights of his pupils seemed somehow darker than usual. His gaze caught on your foot, your shoulder, your face. Anger and concern pulled at his features, you realized - your heart skipped, even though now was not the time, and you realized how badly you wanted to reach for him, to get out of this trunk and feel his steady presence at your side-

You shifted, and immediately winced with the throbbing pain of your shoulder and wrists. His eyes locked onto yours, his look softening just slightly. He reached out, pausing just before you.

“may I?” he asked.

Whatever it was, you nodded desperately. 

Without hesitation, his eye flared briefly blue once more, and a blue glow lit up his hand as he gestured gently. You felt yourself lift up, weightless, and your eyes went wide. Suddenly the binding at your wrists loosened and fell away, and you were able to gingerly move your arms to your front, the prickle of returning blood flow slowing your movement. He stood straight and you drifted towards him, and suddenly you were settled in his arms, the blue glow fading from you as he stepped back. 

“got her,” he said as he moved back around the car. He moved with purpose, but his grip on you was gentle and steady, one arm scooped under your thighs by the crook of your knees and the other along your back under your shoulder blades. Your wrists ached but you leaned towards him, one hand resting on his chest. You wondered if the shock was setting in, not for the first time since being near him in the past month. Your mind was vaguely noting how sturdy he felt, again, how despite being made of bone he was surprisingly comfortable to rest against, and warm. He smelled faintly of earth, of salt and old books and, strangely enough, pine.

Undyne had tied and gagged the blonde, who looked definitively unconscious and had a bloody, mangled arm. Next to him slumped the driver with a blooming bruise showing at the edge of his hairline. Papyrus was pulling out of the back seat of the car you had been in, one hand around what appeared to be an extremely long bone club. 

“THEY HAVE MET THEIR END,” he reported. His tone wasn’t jovial, simply matter of fact, a slight grimace of distaste on his face. 

“remove our traces, throw them in the back, and let’s go,” Sans replied, his eyes flashing to the two men bound at Undyne’s feet. Undyne was already throwing open the back of their car, a longer version of the one you had been in. She unceremoniously tossed the men in the back and slammed the hatch down. Papyrus double-checked the other car, waving his hand with a crackle of something orange on his right hand. He nodded after a moment as if satisfied, and Sans moved towards their car. 

The screech of tires, of tires belonging to multiple cars, hit your ears. By the time your head swiveled to look towards the source of the noise, one of the cars was not 20 feet from you and Sans, and it wasn’t slowing down.

Sans’ grip on you tightened and his eye burst into a blue flame. Suddenly, you were falling, falling through darkness, darkness darker yet, and it pressed in on you and you pressed closer to Sans, too determined to scream but your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from that horrifying darkness even so-

And then the screeching was off to your right and Sans’ stepped onto solid ground with you held tight. You were now off to the left, closer to the car you had been kidnapped in, and Sans had gripped you close to his chest. You felt the ripping buzz of magic against your skin, hot and warm and electric, pulsing from Sans. 

Instinct pulled your sight outwards once more. Your eyes caught Undyne and Papyrus bracing themselves, Undyne pulling an electric-blue spear from nothing and Papyrus now wielded two bones. The car that had almost hit you roared past them, and a rain of bullets poured from the car. Undyne whipped her spear faster than your sight could comprehend and somehow blocked against them, her spear leaving a shield-like afterimage of green. Papyrus lifted his bone weapons and readied himself. The realization that you had effectively teleported was crashing through you, but you couldn’t give it the attention it was demanding as you caught movement over Sans’ shoulder.

“Sans, behind us-!” You said urgently, your hands gripping at his suit.

Time seemed to slow in a strange, stuttering moment as one of Sans’ arms slipped to grip you around your waist. His other arm shifted from your legs and you felt them fall without his support, but you stayed secure in his grip as he pressed you nearly flush against him. The hand he had removed lifted as he spun to open his stance towards the approaching car, blue trailing brilliantly behind him in those trailing moments…

And then time crashed around you as if breaking through a seal, and before the tommy guns that had leveled directly at the pair of you could fire Sans made a flippant gesture with his hand and the car was blue and  _ rolling _ , flipping over and over itself and crunching against the road as horrified shouts were cut off as rapidly as they began. Sans face was half-lit in the city streetlights, dark shadows contrasting with the light on his face in a way that could only be described as  _ otherworldly _ . His eye was still alight, and there was an unbridled fierceness in his expression that shot through your core. 

His gaze shifted to Undyne and Papyrus and you followed it. The other car was turning the corner, shot through with spear-sized holes and more than one bone buried deep within it. It sped away, with no intent to return from the looks of it.

“let’s go,” Sans growled. Undyne shot a furious look after the car as if she desperately wanted to chase, but ground her teeth and nodded with the more serious Papyrus. Nothing moved or made a sound from within the overturned car across the street, though a soft hiss was escaping the engine. A dark liquid was pooling at one corner of it. You looked away. 

With an uncharacteristic swiftness, Sans walked to one side of the ready car, the back door already ajar. “hold on,” he said then, just to you. Your eyes met his, and his gaze was almost soft. You realized why as he bent down and slightly adjusted his hold on you to step into the car. You tensed at the accompanying fresh rush of pain and your hand on his chest gripped his shirt, but he moved and settled quickly. You rested in his lap now, his arms still around you. Undyne sat in the back seat with you two, and Papyrus slid into the front passenger seat. The driver was a cloaked figure you couldn’t see.

You realized you were shaking. 

Your chest was tight, so tight, almost crushingly so. A small part of you tried to swear internally and brashly at the shock, tried to blow it off and so you could just fake it till you made it. The majority of you was spent, however. You didn’t feel like you had an ounce of strength in your body, and an empty nausea rolled through you again. Was it the drug, or the adrenaline? The shock? Or perhaps it was the way that your body and mind and very  _ soul  _ couldn’t make sense of the way that you and Sans had fell into nothingness only to step through the other side into safety-

Dimly you registered the careful slip of warm, worn leather against the skin at the top of your arm, where Sans’ hand still held you. He was sliding his thumb in small, soothing circles. 

The shaking didn’t stop, but you felt more grounded.

Without fighting the instinct, you leaned further into Sans. His movement stilled for a split second, but continued soon after. Your head was close to his collarbone now, where the plane of his chest began near his shoulder. The hand that you still rested on his chest slipped slightly, gripping the lapel of his jacket weakly. You felt his chest move, shifting in a slow exhale. How strange. You didn’t know that skeletons could breathe.

“try to breathe, canary.”

You looked up, realizing you had a mile-long stare, and tried to re-focus on Sans’ face. He came into focus and you saw his gaze was trained on you. His trademark grin was there, but softer and you swore a little tense even still. He searched your eyes. You didn’t know what he found. You were sure it wasn’t precisely pleasant. Your hand gripped slightly harder at his lapel.

“you’re here. you’re safe,” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You lost yourself in them, searching their darkness for something to hold onto. The pinpricks of light that served as his pupils were glowing softly, softer than you had ever notice, their usual guarded ease nowhere to be found. You felt him draw in a deep breath, purposefully, and you tried to mimic him, your breath coming in short, hushed gasps. You hadn’t even realized. He exhaled slowly, his thumb still moving in steady circles on your arm. You attempted an exhale with him, your gasps slowly slightly, stuttering out of you. You hated how weak you felt. You hated what they had done to you.

Sans took another deep breath. You copied him as best you could, your gasps fewer and more drawn out. You hated the way your body trembled against your will. Sans exhaled and you followed once more, your eyes desperately trained on his, painful heat at the corners of your eyes. You hated the pain that throbbed an insistent reminder at your wrists, your shoulder, your foot, your head. Sans inhaled, and you did too. You hated the way your hate was ebbing, an empty echo taking its place. Sans exhaled, and did the same. The numbness was edged by pain and the echo of fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge earlier. Sans breathed as one with you, slowly, so slowly. Your body still shook, but much less. Your chest didn’t hurt quite so much.

“ _ Il Sangue _ ,” you said at last, your voice cracking and small. The hate didn’t return. You were just so tired.

Sans nodded once. His eyes had taken back up a hint of their guard. You didn’t find any words to say for another minute.

Then, “Where are we going?” you asked, weariness slugging through your veins. You couldn’t quite find the energy to be worried, not after that, and the small warmth that was keeping you anchored in your chest, the small warmth that was steadied by the presence of Sans’ arms around you, of you pressed against him gently, that warmth was implicitly trusting Sans. He hadn’t lied to you. You were safe, safe with them. With him.

The guard was back up in his eyes, but you wondered if that was a hint of worry that pulled at his grin. “to report in,” he said. 

“You heard somethin’, didn’t you?” 

With a start, you remembered that Undyne was in the same seat next to you. You looked to her, your legs dangling from Sans arms near her. Her one eye was trained on you. It wasn’t accusing, and you knew that she wasn’t exactly asking.

With a slow nod, you replied, “I think so.”

She exhaled sharply. “Well, somethin’ good came outta this, then-”

“U n d y n e.”

You heard the woman’s teeth snap as her mouth closed, her expression twisting into a scowl at Sans’ voice. It had rumbled through the car, not loud but certainly not quiet. It had passed through you, leaving you not scared, but… almost heated. Undyne’s eye slipped back to you. 

“Didn’t mean it like that,” she managed by way of an apology.

You nodded, understanding. “If it had to happen anyway, I’m glad if we’re able to get something out of it,” you said. Your voice had some strength back in it, but you sounded worn out even to yourself. You had so many questions, so much wasn’t quite clicking… but your head throbbed, and you felt that strange sense of cotton in your mind once more. It seemed the drug hadn’t truly worn off yet.

“BROTHER,” Papyrus said from the front seat. You turned your head slightly to look at him and caught him looking back to Sans with a cloth extended, dangling from one hand. His gaze shifted briefly to you, apologetic.

Sans sighed, but nodded. Carefully, he slid the arm that had still been supporting your legs out from under you, letting your legs rest against the smooth leather of the seat. He took the cloth and brought it to you, towards your face.

“security reasons,” he said to you, his voice low. 

You stared at the blindfold for a moment, your heartbeat threatening to speed. You clamped down on the panic before it could take you, breathing out carefully, steadily. You looked back up to Sans, a tired determination in your gaze. You nodded.

He kept his other arm wrapped around you as a gentle blue flickered in his left eye socket, the other growing dim for a moment. The blindfold, surrounded by blue, slipped itself over your eyes and tightened till it was comfortably snug. You couldn’t see anything, but you felt the tingle of magic that had been present on the cloth fade away. 

You felt something shift in front of your face.

“I can’t see at all,” you said softly, the hint of a smile behind your words. The movement stopped, and you heard Undyne bark out a laugh. “I can still feel you waving in front of my face, though,” you said, the smile a little stronger in your words.

You felt Sans’ chest huff out just slightly.

“settle in, then,” he said. The ride was apparently going to be long enough. Your options flitted across your mind fairly quickly - they weren’t many. Without your sight, you were very aware of Sans arm still cradling you, and you were leaning against him in a way that was alarmingly familiar, and you felt your cheeks heat even amidst your exhaustion. You were very aware of the way you were sitting on his lap, of his oddly large bones, and even more oddly the almost  _ comforting _ presence of them below you, to your side, around your shoulders… And you were again aware of that softly earthen smell, the smell of old books, or parchment, the distant hint of a forest…

Before you knew it, your head was resting fully against his chest, your cheek rubbing against the fine woven wool of his jacket. The smell of pine, of something cool mixed with warm earth and salt, it was right against you now, strong but not overpowering, filling you with an overwhelming sense of  _ Sans _ .

Stars above, that sense was so enjoyable.

You were exhausted, and the feeling came unbidden. Your cheeks were warm, and your heart fluttered ever so slightly at the open acknowledgement. His embrace, and it certainly was one, was strong and sure and you would be lying outright if you tried to tell yourself you didn’t enjoy it, even in the circumstances. Your face heated further, but you didn’t have the energy to fight it off. The skeleton beneath you shifted slightly, and you realized that a hint of tension in his bones had just eased slightly. The hard line of his jaw shifted and fell within the loose tangle of your hair. His chest moved so slightly, so slightly, and you felt the tickle of a breath in your hair. He was breathing slowly, and you felt a warm thrum of something from his core.

Overwhelming exhaustion and an unexpected comfort pulled you further into a welcome rest before you could think much further on it. With a slip of a sigh, you fell asleep in Sans’ arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much action and yet not enough, goddesses and stars and everything else above. Not gonna lie, I did the writing equivalent of fidgeting with this chapter for much longer than I usually do - I was (am) really nervous about getting the chase right, about the fight and the demonstration of power, about showing the determination of our Reader while also respecting how freaking harrowing getting drugged & kidnapped is. I'd definitely love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> In other news, somehow, by cosmic fate, _I'm still sick._ Couldn't really get this up any faster because of that - but I'm happy as I'm able to put this up a week after the last update. Fingers crossed I can move/speak/think without violently coughing soon.
> 
> Come talk to me over at my tumblr, nighttimesounds.tumblr.com, if you're interested - about the fic or otherwise. <3 Thank you all for all your kudos & comments, I'm so honored at every notification - seeing your comments pop up after each update gives me some beautiful determination to keep going!


	9. Intent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The monster in front of you stood up as you finished. You watched him rise, tensing just slightly as he languidly moved forward. The motion was so smooth, yet oddly calculated - nothing was superfluous, but his tall form moved through space as if it were an afterthought, as if his form was already meant to be there and it was a simple matter of allowing reality to flow into the right place..._

The shift of pressure around you tugged you out of unconsciousness.

A tired mumble of nonsense fell from your lips as you opened your eyes and saw only darkness. Without thinking, you went to lift your hands to your eyes.

“can’t let you take that off yet,” Sans said. His voice was a pleasant rumble of a growl close to your cheek.

Your body stiffened for a moment as the rest of your senses caught up to you once again; your body was aching with stress and throbbing pain, and Sans’ sturdy arms held you bridal-style close to him, your head having just risen from resting against his shoulder. You realized that you were moving, the cool night air shifting loose strands of your hair against your face, Sans’ arms holding you even closer against him, one of your hands resting almost naturally against his chest, feeling the soft, distant thrum of  _ something _ deep within him buzzing warm against your hand.

“WATCH HER HEAD, SANS!”

Your lips twitched into a smile at Papyrus’ voice slightly ahead of you, pulling you out of the thoughts that were making your cheeks warm. 

“yeah, don’t want her becoming as much of a  _ numbskull _ as i am,” Sans replied, voice lazy but pulling with the grin you could almost see, even blindfolded. He shifted sideways, and you felt the air change in temperature slightly. You must have gone inside.

“SANS.”

You laughed softly, and felt Sans’ hands tighten around you for just a moment. You were being lifted just a little further then, and you recognized the motion as being one of heading up stairs.

“Hurry up,” Undyne’s voice called from above you. You could definitely hear the eye roll in her tone. “He’s gonna be blown as it is.”

Sans didn’t reply to this one, but you felt him reach the top of the stairs. He didn’t seem to be tired at all, despite carrying you like this.

A minute slipped by as the group moved quietly through wherever they had taken you, taking turn after turn. You tried to keep track, but you lost your count as something tight and nervous settled in your gut. You wondered if Sans picked up on it - you felt his thumb start rubbing small circles against your shoulder again. It helped.

And at last, you stopped. To your surprise, you felt the cloth at your eyes slip away, without the blue glow. You blinked owlishly at the sudden light - you had really started getting used to the dark. Once focused, you saw Sans face above you, looking into your eyes, and Papyrus to your other side, the blindfold held in one gloved hand.

“d’you think you can stand, canary?” Sans asked. His voice was still low, close to soft, and the way he was looking at you set your heart beating in a particularly pleasant way. After a moment of distracted thought you nodded.

“I’m sore, but I don’t think I’ll fall,” you answered honestly.

“WE’LL CATCH YOU IF YOU DO,” Papyrus said matter-of-factly. You smiled at him, not a doubt in your mind.

With a skeptical twitch to his grin, Sans nodded, then lowered your legs so you could straighten out. Gingerly your feet met the ground as your hands shifted against Sans, one arm slightly looped around his shoulder. You winced as your ankle throbbed, and Sans’ arms tightened around your waist. Allowing yourself to rest on him, you tested your weight against your ankle - it was sore, and it certainly didn’t feel close to good, but you’d survive. You looked up at him and caught the concern on his features, radiating through his body. You smiled at him and nodded to reassure him.

“Not the greatest, but nothing I can’t stand on,” you said, a flash of determination in your eye. Putting up a bit of a tough front usually helped get you through this sort of thing. Sans lifted a brow bone at you, but you waved your hand. “Really - if I’m about to meet someone important, too, your boss, I need to do it on my own two feet,” you added. 

A moment passed, and then he nodded. He stepped back, one hand lingering on your waist as you stood alone. Your hand around his shoulder slipped to rest on his arm. 

“Any day now, punks,” Undyne growled. Your gaze shot up to her - she stood across the small room, next to an otherwise unassuming door tucked between enormous bookcases filled to the brim. 

Sans’ hand left your waist, and yours left his arm. You nodded at Undyne, then glanced down at yourself. Your face twisted in a grimace as you realized that your now-wrinkled dress was torn at the bottom, and the lace sleeves would be near unsalvageable. You had an enormous blooming bruise on your shoulder and ankle, and you decided you simply didn’t want to know the state of your face or hair. 

Papyrus stepped up to you and gestured towards the door in a gentlemanly manner. He met your concerned gaze. “CONSIDERING THAT YOU’VE JUST SURVIVED A BATTLE, I BELIEVE ANY MESS IN YOUR APPEARANCE WILL BE UNDERSTOOD,” he said, oddly light. A twinkle was in his gaze, though, and you felt your face pull a  smile in response despite yourself. His jacket, shirt - everything was neatly pressed and well-fitting. You had a feeling he took care with his appearance. He understood.

You chuckled. “Thanks, Papyrus. You’re probably right,” you said, even though a seed of concern still sat within you. Well, it’s not as though there was anything you really  _ could  _ do to alter your appearance at this point.

“we’ll be there,” Sans said. You looked over to him as you brushed your dress off in a vague attempt to at least  _ feel  _ better about it. He was facing towards the door, but his gaze was on you. 

Honestly, that did make you feel better. You nodded back at him, a grateful flash to your gaze. You stood up a little straighter, a blaze of brave determination helping you to ignore the anxious drop to your stomach. You strode forward towards Undyne and ignored the pressing twinge in your ankle at every movement. Her annoyed expression lifted slightly with an almost impressed twinkle to her eye. The skeleton brothers were right behind you, and stepped in front as Undyne rapped her knuckles four times on the sturdy door. A moment passed, and then she opened it.

For the footfalls of two skeletons, they sounded surprisingly silent against the rich hardwood of the room you entered.

Your eyes caught on everything but what laid at the other end of the room. The subtle way Sans let Papyrus walk in front of him, the tense line to his back even as he slipped into a casual stance and placed his hands in his pockets. Papyrus walked with the kind of pure-hearted confidence you could only wonder and admire at, and Undyne’s sure, steady form took up the rear as she closed the door with a heavy swing of the dense wood. You had a certain feeling that it wasn’t out of respect that she stood behind you. 

The dark grain of the wood swirled beneath your feet as you moved forward behind Sans, quietly approaching what awaited at the opposite end. You passed a wide, carved fireplace, surrounded tastefully with a seating area and low table in the middle of the more relaxed side of the room. Mirrors lined the walls of this first half of the room, providing no reprieve from even passing looks. 

You forced your eyes further along the room as your short moments of transition ran out. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the latter half of the room, filled immaculately with tomes and records and what would have been trinkets to an un-trained eye… but more truly brimmed with power and significance. You couldn’t stare at these, not yet. You brought your eyes forward, slipping briefly over Sans as he and Papyrus reached the last major item of note in the room - a broad and beautiful wooden desk, carved and topped with dark crystalline stone.

You stepped into the space between Papyrus and Sans, obviously left for you to be front and center - with Undyne somewhere behind you, her gaze alert and hard. 

In front of you, behind the desk, sat a monster.

You would have classified him as skeleton, nearly - but something about his body seemed… less physical than it should be. Dark cracks lined his face, one splitting from above his right eye, the other below his left. His eyes were not for you, currently - rather, he was sitting back in his leather chair and thumbing through what appeared to be a report of some kind. His posture was impeccable despite the strange, head-splitting drip to his form. It was as if shadows themselves clung to his well-tailored suit, refusing to release something that was too close to their own nature…

He set the papers down. You noticed that he too wore gloves - but they were white. Starkly so. 

His gaze moved to Papyrus. Then to Sans. Then Undyne.

Then, to you.

Pitch-black eyesockets held your gaze. He had only one point of light to mark a form of pupil, and it was in his left eye - it captured you, held you tight, and you felt the world fracturing and falling away around you. The darkness slipped in, so natural and unassuming that you didn’t even actively register it. Your chest felt tight, and you felt yourself wanting to pull away from the tugging there. He seemed to notice the feeling in you, as his gaze went to your chest just above the line of your cleavage. The darkness pressed in further…

“if  _ looks _ could kill, right, boss?”

Sans’ low tone snapped you back into the room and sent a pleasant, grateful chill through your core despite the moment. The darkness swept away without you noticing as you glanced towards Sans. His posture was easy and relaxed, his back the only part of him betraying some tension. You had a feeling some of the tension was from a very aware concern for the circumstances, but the other cause might have been a semblance of respect. 

You also caught the double meaning in his words.

The monster behind the desk leaned back into his chair once more, steepling his fingers with the slightest roll of his eyes. Or eye. It was somewhat hard to tell.

“... Indeed,” he said at last. Your eyebrows twitched in betrayal of your usual expressiveness; his tone was clearly betraying his own practiced exasperation with Sans’ humor, but the intriguing part was his inflection. He did not sound like someone who was culturally at home in this era, to put it one way. “Hello,” he greeted you at last. Your name fell from his seemingly bone mouth next, inflected in that same practiced, genteel way.

Remembering yourself, you swept respectfully into a controlled mix between a curtsy and a bow, the movement small and painful with your injuries. It wasn’t something you did often, as it had long been out of style, but somehow the situation seemed to call for it. You trusted the pulse of instinct from your core. “It’s an honor to meet you,” you replied. You didn’t lie; if your somewhat muddled mind had managed to put it together right, this… this was the leader of the Core.

The monster in front of you nodded as you returned to standing. Sans’ gaze was on you as you re-steadied yourself. He caught the tight, pained clench of your jaw, but you stared on regardless. No use looking cowed now.

Still gazing at you, the boss spoke once more. “Sans.”

The skeleton nodded, stepping forward just a breadth of an inch. “as ‘m guessing you know,” he said broadly, one gloved hand slipping out of his pocket to gesture widely towards his boss, “our favorite canary from  _ Del Alma _ was kidnapped.” His careful grin twisted into a slight frown as his voice got lower and his gesture ended with a sweep towards you. “their frontmen waited till after the show, after she had made her rounds, and caused a distraction right as she had given m- us a signal. timing was crap. by the time we… settled things, she was gone,” he said. His gaze was resolutely on his boss, even when your eyes flicked over to him at the tone of his voice. He stood just a little straighter; you were briefly struck again by his size, his strangely relaxed but rugged stature. Dear stars, you had to fight down a slightly hysterical giggle at the thought - you had never imagined yourself calling a skeleton  _ rugged _ .

Sans’ eyes flashed to you, and you bit down the remaining flare of shock that had slipped you into your thoughts. You nodded at him, your mouth twisting in a semblance of a smile, turned grimace.

Your name was called out by the monster behind the desk. You worked to keep your expression serious and alert - you couldn’t slip up here. Every inch of you was screaming that at you - that this was not a monster to relax around. His voice almost  _ caressed  _ your name, his cadence one you still could not put your finger on. It was low and rich, albeit still not as low as Sans’. It almost sounded… staticy, as if you were hearing it through a high-quality radio.

“... tell me what happened,” the monster said to you. It was not a request.

You took a steadying breath. “After my performance tonight, I was taking a breather at the bar between rounds and talking to Sans,” you began, your eyes staying steady on the monster despite the urge to look over at Sans. “I ended up catching a glint of something suspicious on one of the men near the dance floor. I dolled things up a bit, swept the floor with the Great Papyrus…” your gaze did slip away for this, a brief genuine grin pulling at your lips as you glanced at Papyrus to your other side. He held himself at attention, his hands behind his back, but his own gaze met yours as surprise and pride and a dusting of orange crossed his face. He bowed at the waist, just a fraction. A warm moment passed and you decided you didn’t want to dawdle further, so you shifted your attention back forward. “I was able to snag a dance with the one who looked like the ringleader. Right as I found the pin on him marking him as  _ Il Sangue _ ’s - subtly, of course - he asked if I wanted a drink and pulled me off the floor. He stopped as we made our way out, and I caught Sans’ eye… then, as I re-focused back on the man, another jumped me and held a drugged cloth to my face.” You couldn’t help the scowl, the rush of frustration - both at the gang members and at yourself for the misstep, for not having your guard up enough.

“... we went to cross the room as soon as she gave us that signal,” Sans said, his voice cutting off your train of thought. “And suddenly, some raw-knuckled runt through a punch at one of the waittresses, and another one flipped a table and pulled out a gun.”

Your eyebrows shot up and your mouth opened a fraction - you hadn’t been awake or free to catch this piece.

“WE BROKE UP THE FIGHTS, OF COURSE,” Papyrus said with a short, satisfied nod. “I BELIEVE GRILLBY SAW TO THE DETAILS AFTERWARDS - SANS HAD ALREADY SHIFTED TO THE SPOT SHE HAD BEEN IN, BUT…” He trailed off at this. You frowned at what sounded like sadness in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Papyrus,” you said, your eyes shifting to him again despite the setting. You lifted one hand and rested it on his closest arm - he was sturdy, like Sans, but in a way you could only describe as  _ lean _ despite his utter lack of muscle. 

Papyrus looked at you in surprise and vague confusion. “IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT THAT YOU WERE KIDNAPPED,” he said, as though your words must have come from some deep confusion of your own. “YOU WERE MERELY DOING YOUR JOB, ALMOST AS WELL AS  _ I  _ DO MINE,” he said with a bright look of approval. A small laugh bubbled out of you at this - he really was too much, too sweet. You shook it off, but shot him an appreciative look and a mouthed  _ thank you _ , to which he nodded with that same bright look before also re-focusing forward. 

The monster still regarded you from behind steepled fingers. His face was strangely impossible to read - you tried not to frown at this. It was rare that you couldn’t get some kind of read on someone. “... What do you remember, after that?” He said, prompting you. 

Shifting your weight a little on your leg that didn’t hurt, you looked slightly to the side as you recalled what you could. “I wasn’t able to get away from them, they were too prepared for my struggle… I woke up bound and blindfolded in what I realized was the hatch trunk to some sleek wagon. We were taking corners fast, and they were distracted - I realized that there was someone on our tail. I… had my hopes,” you said, looking further to the side for a different reason but resisting the urge to glance fully at Sans, “so I waited for them to take a shot and kicked out the taillight right as it happened.”

“to mask the noise…” Sans breathed out. “ _ que lista _ .” You felt his gaze on you, and your cheeks warmed. 

You chuckled in an awkward acknowledgement and continued. “Thankfully, they didn’t notice. The leader of the group was telling the driver which way to turn - they were trying to shake the follow - so… well, my hands were tied, so I managed to work my foot out and used it to try to point which direction the leader was saying to cut down a little on the chase gap…”

You trailed off at the monster’s nearly imperceptible brow lifting. Knowing that it sounded ridiculous - and fully aware of your own imagination’s insistent picture of the absurd image your foot must have made - your face heated fully. Even if you stood by your choice, especially since it seemed to have helped, it didn’t make it less… well.

“The broad’s signals helped River catch up,” Undyne said from behind you. You twisted to look at her, surprise on your flushed face, but she simply shrugged and flashed a grin at you. “What, it’s true. I respect that kinda  _ valentía _ ,” she said. You felt a little pride flare in you, pride that this near-stranger of a fish woman respected your guts.  “They tried to shoot us, again, even after we pulled alongside and gave them an option. So we took those  _ cabrones _ out.” Her grin turned wicked.

You were very glad that you weren’t on any side opposing Undyne.

Your thoughts strayed to the way the car had gone alight in blue, stopping in its tracks,  _ above  _ its tracks - you shivered. You were very glad Sans wasn’t against you, as well. Not in that way, anyways. Not that you wouldn’t…

You shook yourself, ready to snap at everything that happened, vaguely grateful that your face was already flushed, and beyond determined to not look over at either of the skeletons eyeing you with concern.

“WE CAPTURED TWO OF THE OFFENDING HUMANS BEFORE SOME OF THEIR FRIENDS RETURNED TO CHECK ON THEM,” Papyrus said after coming to the conclusion that you weren’t going to speak up again yet. “SANS TOOK CARE OF ONE BATCH… QUITE EFFECTIVELY,” he said slowly, his eye sockets seeming to focus to the side as he spoke democratically. “THE OTHER MADE THEIR WAY AWAY QUITE QUICKLY AFTER FACING UNDYNE AND I,” he added with a festal smile. 

“Our guests of course being the ones from this encounter,” the monster said, his rich voice sounding as calm and nondescript as if speaking of the weather, rather than of two beaten and bloodied gang members that were now hostage to the Core. When he received nods from the others, he shifted slightly, his gaze once more on you. He was waiting.

“I’m not sure whether what I heard is of any use - I mean, do you know where they may have a base set up…?” You ventured. Stars, you hoped that this wouldn’t be useless information.

No one spoke for a few moments. Sans, Papyrus, and Undyne watched the monster in front of you - you really wished you knew his name, or at least what to call him - and the monster in front of you watched you, his expression still unreadable.

At last, he said, “I would like to hear your information regardless.” 

You were impressed despite yourself. This monster knew how to tactfully avoid questions. “... Well, while they were trying to shake off you all,” you gestured to Papyrus, Sans, and Undyne, “the leader had been barking orders to go a different route, to lose them and to keep from being followed back somewhere - somewhere that seemed important. But they were catching up, and the leader didn’t have much attention to spare, so I heard him ask the driver if he knew how to get to the wharf from there… it was supposed to be our destination. He was cut off then as they caught up.”

The monster in front of you stood up as you finished. You watched him rise, tensing just slightly as he languidly moved forward. The motion was so smooth, yet oddly calculated - nothing was superfluous, but his tall form moved through space as if it were an afterthought, as if his form was already meant to be there and it was a simple matter of allowing reality to flow into the right place.

He walked around the desk, the darkness still dripping softly from his form and disappearing into shadow before anything could hit the floor, his suit a sharp, attractive cut that accentuated his lean form and whispered  _ power. _ He stepped in front of you, making you crane your head to try to meet his gaze. He had to be at least seven feet tall, by the stars. You held your ground, clasping your hands behind your back.

His gaze flowed over you like his own shadows. “And how did you come to believe that this was a place of importance for  _ Il Sangue _ , as opposed to merely a transfer point?”

Your brows furrowed at this. “It was clear,” you said, not quite sure how to explain this.

“So this is nothing more than a hunch,” he replied. His expression hadn’t shifted, but you did not appreciate the implication. “Though it may be useful to know of it as a potential transfer point, I cannot say that this is the most steady intelligence that has been offered…”

“It’s not a hunch.”

Your interruption caused his bone brows to lift somewhat. You had the sudden feeling that most people didn’t cut into his words. “Explain,” he said, simple. Absolute.

You fought the scowl that threatened to pull. You’d been doing this for years, and for longer yet on your own - getting reads on people, deciphering what information was useful and true, what was not… “When people say something of importance, there’s a certain… intent behind it,” you said, struggling to explain. You felt the sharp gaze of all the monsters on the room. “Something in you… well, it almost  _ pulses _ with that intent, and it’s relayed in your tone, in your expression, and even in your body language. Context shifts how you - how  _ I  _ can read that, but it doesn’t make it less clear. The wharf was of significance - and the kind of intent behind the leader’s words wasn’t that corresponding with something of decently low significance, like a drop off point. There’s something bigger there, something that he - and the other men - regarded with heavy importance.”

The room was heavy with a quiet that was undercut by a strange energy that seemed to exude from the monsters. The monster looming over you still watched you, his expression now twisted, just slightly - there was deep thought there, and a calculating curiosity. 

You felt the room fading around you again, as if pulled into a strange fuzzy demi-reality, too dark, too creeping at the edges. You were unable to look away from him. He captured your gaze, staring with an overpowering intent at you. Unwilling and quite probably unable to move, you stared back at him, ignoring the creeping chill that ran down your spine. He stepped to the side, and began to circle you. His pace was slow, measured, and heavy. His sleek shoes barely made a noise on the hardwood flooring, and you lost sight of him as he looped to your back and you felt utterly anchored - unable to move to follow his movements.

“ _ Más de lo que parece… _ ” his voice came from behind you, rough and low and dripping down you like molasses. Your breath caught in your throat. 

He was dangerous.

His steps carried him around your other side, his gaze still heavy on you, heavy on your very core. You felt your heart nearly beating out of your chest, a hard pressure and tightness pulling, pulling on you-

And then you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, and the darkness snapped and disappeared.

“so whaddya think, boss,” came Sans’ low voice. His hand was the one that had grasped your shoulder - he had stepped closer, nearly to where he could press against you if he had chosen. His other hand rested in his pocket, and he was eyeing his boss who still regarded you in turn.

Sans’ hand on your shoulder was protective, strong, steady. Somehow, it had broken whatever hold his boss had on you. Relief and gratitude swept through you as you were able to regain your hold on yourself.

The monster’s gaze flickered to Sans, a cross of annoyance flashing on his face before dropping to a measured calculating look.

“ _ Il Sangue _ is something of our rival group, as I’m sure you’ve gathered,” the monster says, his eyes catching yours once more. “They are human supremacists and run their own business on the human side of the city, backing several establishments and trying quite desperately to encroach on our territory.” The flash to his eyes reminded you of how grateful you were to be on this side. “Being human, they cannot create their own magical food or drink, yet humans crave it and the experience, making for quite the demand… so they resort to making moves on us, stealing our batches, cutting of our lines - or trying to, in any case.”

“we’ve got a sharp  _ eye  _ out for their movements,” Sans said lazily. You glanced at him as his hand slipped off your shoulder, brushing down your arm for a moment, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch. His eye flashed blue and he winked at you, his expression dark. Another chill ran up your spine… this one a bit warmer.

“Indeed. They’ve begun… encroaching more  _ aggressively _ as of late due to rumors of a new shipment of particularly quality goods,” the monster in front of you continued.

Your expression was thoughtful, precise. “Would those rumors be true?” You asked. 

The monster eyed you back, a small smirk pulling at his face. “Many rumors find at least a very small piece of truth to base themselves in.”

You exhaled shortly through your nose, your lips almost perking at the cryptic challenge, but aware that you shouldn’t press further.

The monster in front of you straightened to his full height. “I am aware of your status at  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ as something of a keen eye and intelligence-gatherer,” he said. You nodded in confirmation, even though it wasn’t a question. “And after tonight’s events… well. I would like for you to do so even more purposefully, and directly for the Core. You shall be a subtle set of eyes and ears, though I do not currently require that you go beyond the walls of  _ Del Alma _ to do so. Each night, you will report to Sans,” he said, his eyes flicking over to Sans. Your gaze followed his. Sans looked slightly more tense, and stood a little straighter, but he nodded at the implicit command from his boss, and shot you a quick wink in reassurance. “Any suspicious whispers, movements, anything at all… they are getting bolder yet. They will slip up soon,  _ de un modo u otro… _ ”

His voice dripped darkly, darker than the shadows clinging to his suit, and his eyes had gone completely black. You swallowed heavily, a measure of anxiety in your chest, but determination to help protect your makeshift family burning brighter around it.

“Choice or no, I’ll do it,” you agreed. Your voice was steady, and you thanked your stars that it hadn’t cracked in the heaviness of the task. 

The monster in front of you, above you, your new boss, smiled. The expression wasn’t a particularly reassuring one, but it wasn’t antagonistic either. “ _ Buenísimo.  _ We shall be seeing each other again, and in no delayed amount of time, I should think.” His gaze lingered heavily on you for a moment. You watched him in return, trying to get a read on him, but unable to yet. At last he turned and walked to the other side of his desk. He leisurely sat down into his chair, his movements remaining so smooth yet so strangely otherworldly.

Once more, as if in afterthought, he caught your gaze. “Oh, and my dear?” He said, his voice close to light. You perked your brow, waiting. “I expect you know that nothing of The Core leaves this room. Not a whisper, outside of to myself or one of these three when appropriate. You are what we shall describe as  _ undercover _ . You will continue to perform, continue to report disturbances to the bartender, and so on… but the true info, that shall go to us.” He steepled his fingers once more. “And should you fail to conduct yourself appropriately, well…” The light in his eye went out once more and his voice dropped. “You will cease to exist.”

The breath had fled you, but you managed to nod once, tight and quick. The light returned to his eye, and you were able to breathe once more.

“Very good. Sans, please see her out and home safely, and report to me tomorrow. Undyne, Papyrus, I would like a full account of the standard details.” 

Papyrus stood straighter yet and bowed at the waist to him, and Undyne strode forward to join Papyrus. As she did so, she clapped a hand to your good shoulder, her one eye twinkling conspiratorily at you.

“Welcome to the family, punk,” she said with a wild grin. Despite yourself you grinned back, only a ghost of vague shock in your expression. You felt Sans’ hand on your other arm and turned to look at him. One of his brows was up, and he made a short gesture of a nod with his head to the door. You nodded, stepping alongside him to leave the room.

Just before reaching the door, Sans still at your side, you stopped. He looked at you questioningly, but you turned back to look at the monster behind the desk.

“Ah… sir, what should I call you?” You asked, erring on the side of politeness to voice the question that had been pulling at you the entire time.

His eyes were waiting for your gaze. A small smile seemed to play at his lips - or whatever it was that he had. “Sir certainly has a nice ring to it, and ‘boss’ works well too… but among our own you may refer to me as Gaster.”

His name brushed across your skin with a dark chill. You nodded once more, your gaze taking in everything you could. 

“I won’t let the family down, Gaster,” you swore. You turned on your heel and strode out of the room, Sans’ opening the door before you could reach for it. Your chest felt alight with a fiery protectiveness - while you were sure to respect Gaster, more than anything you were determined to protect your family at  _ Del Alma _ , as well as your more recent friends made as part of the Core’s family - your family now, too. Oh stars, you were officially a member of a mob family.

Sans closed the door behind the two of you, but not before you could hear Gaster’s low laugh echoing across the room and out the door behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and with many apologies, I'm back! Some really really crap things have gone down in my life within the past few weeks, and I am/am going to be (literally) living in a really bad situation for another month, so I'm so sorry for the delay in updates. I think I've found a tenuous balance in the meantime (by staying out of my living situation as much as possible) so I'm hoping to get back on track with updates. Still, I just want to let you lovely readers know that I may not be able to fully get back into once-a-week updates for the next month, though I will be back more regularly.  <3
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support/interest/kudos/comments - they've really kept me anchored, and helped me pull myself out of some dark places to get back to writing this story (and DYD). You are all so sweet and I'm still a little in shock that there's over 200 kudos and so many bookmarks! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm pumped to be back at it for you all and for this story.
> 
> Now, back to the story! Ahhhh I hope you like how this bit turned out... it's only the beginning of our Reader's involvement with the Core - things are just starting to get _heated_. Next chapter is going to be a _lot_ of Sans  & Reader interaction - by which I mean, the entire damn thing is, heh. 
> 
> With that, I pose an important question! I've been thinking about slipping in some Sans' POV - would you all like that? I would start with some next chapter, if you're interested... I can work it either way, so let me know~


	10. Descansa.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Barely had the words left his mouth before your eyes flashed with something keen and your lower lip slipped between your teeth, tugged, teased, and it took everything Sans had to not close that last little space between your mouth and his right then and there._
> 
> _“... hold on tight, and don’t let go,” he whispered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all _so much_ for your lovely words and support. I'm back.  <3

Sans watched you take a few steps before your stride turned unsteady again. He snapped to your side as softly as he could, not caring to wait a second to cross normally to you.

It was a sign of your exhaustion that you didn’t even notice his unnatural shift before you lifted a hand to his upper arm.

“ _buen trabajo_ , canary,” he said honestly, looking down at you. Your face turned up to him as you leaned a little more heavily on him, slipping your arm to loop around his. The movement was so easy and natural. His soul pulsed in his core, and he fought down the blue blush that you always threatened to bring to his cheeks.

“Not bad for my first meeting with a super-powerful mob boss, huh,” you said back, a breathy and incredulous chuckle following your words. Your gaze met his, and he could see the shock and vague disbelief behind your easy front.

“you’re a natural,” he responded with his own chuckle. He wasn’t lying - Gaster had laid his void magic down thick at several points, much to Sans’ annoyance. But you had held up surprisingly well; hell, most people would have collapsed at the first touch of the creeping darkness, but you simply stood your ground. Sans shook his head, impressed by your continued ability to adapt to the strange and dangerous.

You were staring at your free hand’s wrist when he looked down at you again. It was raw and badly chafed, the skin broken and bruised at several points. Your other wrist wasn’t any better - he had seen it up close while you were asleep in the car.

You had had a surprisingly peaceful nap - or, really, period of unconsciousness, nothing so casual as a nap. But you had simply slept in his arms, content and relaxed no doubt for the first time that night. You had curled closer to him when he tried to shift you to make sure your neck wouldn’t get sore from the odd position… your hand had gripped the lapel of his jacket a little tighter, your knuckles brushing up against a rib and sending a shiver down his spine. Feeling Undyne’s eye on him, he ignored her and tried distracting himself with checking your injuries. Your shoulder was badly bruised, and he had a feeling several spots on your head were the same way. Your ankle was in a bad way - it didn’t seem broken, but it was cut and swollen… and your wrists, your wrists were so raw and red and they were the only thing you seemed to hold slightly tense while you slept, he had noticed. His free arm shifted, the one not supporting your head and back, and he gingerly lifted the hand you weren’t holding onto him with.

His inspection was practiced. No broken bones here, either, thank the stars. His gloved fingers cradled your hand gently as he looked, but you made a small noise. Your eyes had screwed a little tighter shut behind the blindfold suddenly, by the way your cheeks had lifted, and then you were - _estrellas del cielo,_ you had tucked your head tighter against him, slipping your face into the crook of his shoulder at his neck. Your breath puffed soft against his collar and the exposed bone.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by your free hand brushing against the lapel of his jacket.

“... It’s honestly not that bad,” you said. You were gazing into his eyes, and he realized that the lights had gone out in his eye sockets with the concerned flash to your otherwise light gaze. Flickering them back into focus, his grin twisted wryly. Your appearance was disheveled: your gown’s sleeves torn, your hair pulled out of it’s neat twisting styling from earlier, your cheeks dusted with a flush for some reason.

“i’m pretty sure that you don’t feel too great, either,” he replied with a brow bone raised. He rested his opposite hand on the hand you had looped around his arm.

You grinned guiltily back at him. “I suppose it would be a little silly to deny that,” you admitted. “I’m… well, I’ll at least say that I’m exhausted, in far more ways than one.”

He snorted. “y’ really have a way of phrasing things in a pretty way, canary,” he said. Despite his wry words, his tone was amused and warm. He really liked the way your face got warmer in response to that kind of tone of his.

You looked away from him with an attempt at a chuckle, and he missed the feeling of your hand at his chest when you went to briefly brush your knuckles across your cheeks and lips. “So! Ah, will we be riding back with… I think Undyne referred to the driver earlier as River?” You cocked your head a little to the side as you switched subjects, and Sans caught the way your gaze focused distantly above you for a moment as you remembered the detail.

He was impressed, but unsurprised. Undyne had only mentioned them in a passing moment, but you recalled the detail of the driver and their name - it definitely wasn’t for nothing that you were the watcheye for _Del Alma_ , and that the boss himself had taken notice of you…

Sans hummed briefly, turning a little to face you more directly, his hands sliding into his pants’ pockets. “ _si_ , that was River, one of our main drivers…” He regarded you carefully. You really were holding up surprisingly well, your ease of determination and that feisty spark in you holding you up even after being kidnapped, drugged, and having had so little rest before then facing the boss of a mob that you were now even more thoroughly entwined with. You had held up well, even in a fight rife with powerful magic-

An impish grin spread onto his face then, and you quirked a brow at him in that way that put a pleasant buzz to his soul. Nonchalantly, though still with _that look_ on his face, he offered, “it’d take a while and you’d have to be blindfolded again if we went that route… how about a shortcut, instead?”

You tilted your head to the side for a moment again, studying him with a wry, knowing look, your arm still linked with his. A challenging grin pulled at your own lips at the mischief in his eyes, and a low chuckle rumbled out of his chest in gratification at your matching attitude.

He already knew your answer before you even spoke. “Alright, Sans, show me what you’ve got.”

His grin turned absolutely _wolfish_. He slipped his hands out of his pockets and in a trailing flash he had them clasped behind you at your lower back, now chest-to-chest with you. He dipped his head down slightly to catch your bright and surprised eyes.

“ _un reto, lucerita?_ ” he said. Your cheeks were flushed, but you still held your own grin. “how could i refuse the chance to bond a little with my… _nueva socia?_ ”

Barely had the words left his mouth before your eyes flashed with something keen and your lower lip slipped between your teeth, tugged, teased, and it took everything Sans had to not close that last little space between your mouth and his right then and there.

“... hold on tight, and don’t let go,” he whispered.

You lifted your arms and circled them behind his neck as he pulled you fully flush against him. He pressed a hand against the arch of your spine in the small of your back, and the other shifted to press between your shoulder blades.

He let himself be surrounded in the sense of your body pressed against his, flush and tight and warm, warmer than he had ever felt you in those brief moments before this. You held his gaze, your eyes lidding just a little, your lips now slightly parted, the smallest puff of your breath tickling his collarbone.

Just as he was edging on becoming too distracted to pull his magic together, he saw his chance as he realized every ounce of your attention was on him. He wanted to make this easier for you, so he took it.

With a sensation like gravity itself had strengthened so much as to make solid reality meaningless, he dropped into the void with you held tight in his arms.

It had been a rare circumstance when he had traveled with you earlier. The drain on his magic was heavy with another person, and if they didn’t have the wherewithal to handle that kind of tear in reality’s laws, things got messy when they landed. Danger had made it a necessity in that moment, the step into the eternity of _nothing_ far easier than it usually was with another person, but he hadn’t had the time to focus on it then.

Now though, in the everlasting split-second it took to traverse the space between _space_ , he felt something - a bright, electric throb from your core that shone through your gaze, and he felt his own soul struck through in the most powerful of ways in response-

And then reality restructured itself as if it had simply momentarily lapsed in an embarrassing flash of oversight. You fell a little heavier in his hold, eyes unfocusing and mouth popping open a little wider in a soft ‘o’. He held you even closer, adjusting his grip to help support you, his soul still pulsing hard at whatever had just happened in the void.

“ _Sans_ ,” you breathed, and all his attention snapped to you. A line of tension pulled at his bones despite himself, worried that it had been too much. But then your eyes refocused on him and the most brilliant of smiles spread across your face. “That… that, that was-” your voice faltered for a second, your eyes darting around, not yet seeing your surroundings. Then, with a radiant reverence, “ _you_ were amazing,” you finished, your hands pulling at the back of his neck, pulling his face a little closer.

His cheekbones lit with blue.

He grinned then, relief and mischief warring on his face through his blush. “what, did that little shortcut have you  _falling_ for me, canary?”

You opened your mouth to retort, then your eyes flashed with realization. Your grasp behind him broke and suddenly laughter was pealing bright and frustrated and giddy from you and you slapped his chest gently with your hands, the length of your body still pressed to him.

“Sans-!” You managed, no true upset in your tone. He only grinned wider.

“y’know, i can pun all night if it means you’ll keep calling my name like that,” he said with a wicked smile and bright glint to his eyes. Your eyes widened even further, your cheeks coloring even more, your laughter cut off suddenly.

Your eyes narrowed playfully then, despite the full blush still roaring across your cheeks. A little thrill went up Sans’ spine as he recognized that clever look you got whenever you were about to go toe-to-toe with him, but this look was a little darker, a little heavier-

“It’ll be a little hard to say your name if you leave me _breathless_ ,” you said slowly, a grin building back on your face.

Now it was Sans’ turn. His cheeks were already blue, he realized belatedly, but stars if the mental image that just flashed through his mind at your words didn’t make him press you just a little closer still. Your breath hitched in one hell of a way as he brought his face a little closer to yours.

“... is that another challenge, _picara descarada_ …?”

His gaze flickered to your lips, so close to his, and back to your now lidded gaze. You inhaled softly, shortly, as if to try to say something, a heated spark in your eye-

“ _Mis estrellas_ , our canary’s okay- _Grillby!_  Grillby, she’s back-”

Sans’ breath caught at the same moment yours did, and he could feel the tick of frustration and desire open in his gaze matching your own that mingled with surprise. The moment broke and you stepped back, shaky on your feet, and Sans let one hand fall away and tuck into his pocket. He kept the other on the small of your back though - you needed support still, after all.

The bright green fire elemental all but sprinted over to you, the door to the kitchen behind the bar swinging still. She nearly barrelled into but paused just in time, seeing your injuries.

“Fuku-”

“Oh _to the dark_ with this, what did they get you into-” she turned to glance up at Sans, a rare scowl on her flickering features warring with the worry that hadn’t left once she saw your injuries. “Sans! What the-”

Your hands fluttered a little, vigorous movement and an apparently remaining lightheadedness keeping you from moving too quickly. “Fuku! It’s okay, I’m okay - Sans, Sans and the others rescued me,” you explained to your bristling friend. She was usually so gentle and light-hearted, it spoke a lot to how much she cared for you. Sans simply gazed down at her and nodded. He understood her worry, even if a part of him had… bristled in turn. He had shoved it down before you or she could notice.

You continued speaking once Fuku’s posture had relaxed a little. “I’m a bit bruised and exhausted, but I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m so sorry to have made you worry.”

Fuku choked out a disbelieving laugh at this. “You-!” she shook her head, her face flickering brightly and in distorted agitation. “ _Absurdas-_ please, please worry about yourself,” she said with a crackle. Carefully then, but as big as she could, she reached forward and pressed into you in a hug. You returned it, a soft smile on your face despite the upset that crinkled the corners of your eyes, Sans noticed. He hadn’t moved his hand, but it wasn’t in the way, so he didn’t make to move.

And then suddenly your name was uttered in a heavy, intense crackle like wood added to a blazing bonfire, and you were swept out of Sans gentle half-hold and carefully yet fully into the broad embrace of _El Fuego del Alma’s_ bartender.

“Grillby-!” you said softly, surprised and muffled against his chest. You returned his hug as fiercely as you could. Sans was surprised himself - he hadn’t noticed Grillby approach, and he wondered if Grillby had simply come that quickly or if he had been that absorbed in watching your little movements. He eyed the fire elemental, his old friend and long, long-time bartender, but he couldn’t help but relax at the joyful and relieved pulse of your soul as he asked you about your injuries and what had happened.

When had he started to so naturally pick up on its fluctuations...? Even if he wasn’t looking for it, he could feel your soul when it pulsed in happiness or frustration or puzzlement nearby… and when he was next to you, _against_ you - when you had pressed yourself even closer to him in the void, your heart stuttering in shock but more noticeably _throbbing_ in something that threw Sans off. It wasn’t fear, or even confusion, like he had expected-

“Thank you, Sans, for keeping your promise.”

Grillby’s warm hand clapping at Sans’ shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. His eyes focused on the fire elemental, who still had one arm folded around you as you laughed softly at something Fuku had said. Even though Grillby’s eyes weren’t terribly noticeable most of the time, they were sharp on Sans now. Powerful gratitude was behind his gaze. Sans returned the look with a rare seriousness and nodded once. Grillby had spoken low while you were distracted, so you didn’t catch the exchange.

You really _had_ found a family here, Sans knew.

“Grillb’z, I’m burning up hun,” you turned your face back up to the much taller monster with a huff and a grin. You weren’t kidding - your face was flushed, almost as much as it had been earlier when Sans still held you in his arms.

If he had flesh to bite in his cheek, he would have then.

As it was, he chuckled. “you might wanna let the canary go, Grill’ - you don’t wanna draw her f’ _ire_ ,” he said.

Grillby stepped back from you with a roll of his eyes and a crackling groan, mimicked by Fuku. You nearly snorted.

“Did I say you were pushing it earlier? Looks like I need to redefine,” you said dryly. Still, your lips perked up at the corner, and that pushed Sans’ grin wider. Before he could start on another, though, you continued, “I really should get back to my apartment soon, though… I can feel my consciousness _flickering_.”

A moment of silence.

Then Grillby snorted and Fuku broke into smooth laughter. Sans joined them, his grin wide and brow bones high, his laughter completely open.

“Now _that_ was proper _juego de palabras_ ,” Grillby said, crossing his arms and allowing his smile to kindle on his face. Fuku nodded, still trapped in giggles, and you shot her a wink.

“you’re really making me _burn_ through my joke material, doll,” Sans said, slipping his hands into his pockets. You grinned back at him, but Grillby shook his head.

“ _Por el bien de las estrellas,_ have him take you home before this continues on,” he shot to you. Grillby’s smile still flickered on his face, though it was a dry one. The fondness still stood, though, and you laughed and nodded - your face a little flushed.

Well, he did intend on insisting he accompany you for your own sake, anyways. _Now_ it was expected. Perfect.

… The way you looped your arm so naturally through his may have been more perfect, though.

“If that’s okay,” you said to him. You tilted your face as you nearly always did when genuinely considering something, and the soft edge to your expression - you really were making sure, and you seemed a little embarrassed, if he was reading the dusting of color on your cheeks right - it pulsed something warm and electric through his soul.

“wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied easily with a wink. You smiled at him, a true, bright one, gratitude warming your face.

He watched as you turned and gripped Fuku in a careful one-armed hug, then slipped your hand into Grillby’s afterwards with a squeeze. They walked you to the exit, pushing the need to rest, Grillby assuring you that he would personally toss you out if you attempted to come in and overexert yourself tomorrow. You responded with a laugh, but Sans noticed the twitch of your lips.

They left you and him to traverse the appropriate corridors arm-in-arm so they could finish cleaning and locking up now that your safety had been confirmed. Sans pushed open the door to the back alley, flaring his senses - but the area was empty, and he led you out.

You paused as the door slipped shut quietly, turning your face towards the sky above. Sans copied your movement.

The sky was dark, a handful of twinkling stars visible in the stretch of sky visible between the stone walls of the buildings framing the alley. The lights of the area obscured some of the truly brilliant patterns, though Sans had since gotten used to that aspect of working in the city.

“I miss seeing more of them,” you said. Your voice was nearly a whisper, barely brushing the small space between you as you leaned against him. His gaze slipped to you, though he let his face still remain directed mostly upwards. Several moments passed, and he had nearly figured that you wouldn’t share anything further when you spoke again. “... We didn’t always live in the city. I spent most of my life here, yes - but up until I turned about the age you start schooling, we had lived in a more rural area a little ways around the mountain.” If it was colder, the breath would have barely puffed away from your face. Sans held still, his face now turned towards you even as you continued looking distantly upwards. “Things weren’t… complicated, not really, not yet. I would sit out on the porch most nights, staring upwards and tracing shapes in the twinkling lights. Everything seemed so… possible. Even when the actual constellations were pointed out to me, I remember - I remember nodding, and learning them, and still pointing out new patterns. I made up new constellations, new ways to pull love and light and understanding and strange, strange potential out of the same stars that have been there since the beginning of time itself, loving to lose myself in what was possible if you just looked at it right.”

You fell silent. Something deep in Sans kept him from trying to see what your soul was showing then. He kept looking at you in the quiet alley, thoughts slipping through his mind.

“that first night we came out of the mountain… the sun was setting,” he said, his voice so low and soft that you managed to shift your gaze from the sky above. Your eyes were a little red around the edges. “my brother… Pap, he took off running, excited to see the city, to discover what all the other humans were like, and, well - bring more energy to the world, with how he is,” he nearly broke your gaze, his voice a little rough with fondness. “i caught up with him after letting him explore the forest a little - and we ended up in this clearing part way down the mountain…”

Sans felt his eyes unfocus slightly, the memory pulling him in even as your presence at his side kept him talking. “... we had this area in the underground. waterfall. it... a lot of it, a lot of it was covered in these luminescent stones, stones that sparkled and shone and let you move around, but more importantly - in the distance, _en las alturas_ , they twinkled. to many of us, they looked like stars, what we imagined they must be like - what some older monsters said they reminded them of.” A puff of air, a soft cousin of a chuckle, slipped out of him. For a moment, he let himself look upward again. “i always wondered why those monsters looked so sad and distant when they said that. like some sort of cruel joke had… well, i figured it was being so aware of what we had lost by being trapped. that moment in the clearing, though, after the sun had set and i caught up with Papyrus, and we both turned our skulls up at the same time…”

His gaze dropped to yours. You hadn’t moved, not an inch. He held his arm a little closer to himself, pulling you in closer with it. “i realized _then_ that the look wasn’t just bitter memories. no, no, it was a disbelief, almost - because those crystals… beautiful as they were, they were nothing at all compared to _las estrellas, el cosmos, el todo…_ i didn’t move, not for ages, and neither did Pap. with everything that we could see, for the very first time… i couldn’t look away. we were far enough away from the city that the lights - which weren’t as bright, even then - they barely bled over, and we could even see the lining of the galaxy itself.”

He didn’t look away from your eyes. His soul pulsed painfully in his chest, but he ignored it. Your eyes, your gaze, he held that, though it may have been you holding him.

He didn’t know how to continue.

He felt like somehow, somehow, you might have understood what he was saying anyways.

He felt the urge to shiver then as a cool breeze swept through the alleyway. You _did_ shiver, so he pulled you closer - and, realizing you couldn’t get much closer as you were, he slipped his arm out of your hold and around your shoulders.

Your soft, quick inhale as he pulled you in warmed his soul.

“... let’s get you home, _estrellita_.”

You seemed to have lost your words for the moment, Sans noticed, and settled for nodding in response.

You smiled a small, thoughtful smile up at him. That thoughtfulness looked almost wistful in your eyes. Sans realized that he hadn’t ever caught you speechless before, not like this.

He began walking, slowly and with your ankle in mind. Absently, he stroked your shoulder with his thumb. Your hand slipped upwards and gently grasped his fingers - he faltered for a moment, but you squeezed them just slightly even if you wouldn’t look him quite in the eye.

He grinned.

Sans strolled unhurriedly through the streets together with you. A comfortable silence had fallen between you. The city was a rare sort of hushed quiet, caught in a beautifully eerie window of time so late in the night that it was early in the morning. Amongst his ease in holding you close, Sans had a sharp eye out for the shadows and odd noises and absence thereof in the streets. Luck finally seemed to be on his side with you, though, and he found himself only slowed to a stop by the eventual tug of your hand a number of blocks away from _del Alma_.

You had stopped in front of a largely nondescript building - plain brick six stories high with only a bit of flair at a few sculpted stone windowsills. Your eyes were trained on the stoop of the half-rise stairs, a small, disappointed twist to your expression.

Sans felt a similar flair of feeling at the sight of your destination.

“... Well, this is me,” you said, almost noncommittally. Your face lifted to him at last, and even though the exhaustion had clearly caught up with you, there was some kind of sparkle to your eye that he had a feeling he could follow for a long, long time…

“let me bring you up to your floor,” Sans said lightly. You huffed a laugh and butted him tiredly with your hip.

“None of that, you’ve already got me _floored_ with how considerate you’ve been so far,” you replied, your mouth twisting mischievously.

Sans grinned down at you. “what, you don’t think i can _rise_ to the gentlemanly occasion?” he remarked, and before you could question his emphasis, he shifted and in a smooth motion had you firmly held in his arms bridal-style and was stepping up the stoop stairs smoothly. He shot you a wink, his grin only growing wider at your wide eyes and deep blush.

“You-! Sans, you little cheater!” You accused - but you broke it with a laugh and he opened the door with a spark of his magic. “... 6th floor,” you grumbled good-naturedly. “You still want to escort me like this up that many flights?” Your voice was wry and disbelieving, but he grinned at you and simply began to climb the stairs.

He liked the way you squeaked softly and clung closer to him as he made his way up the questionably open-air style staircase.

He hummed softly as he moved, then turned to you with an air and tone of thoughtfulness and a wicked tilt to his grin. “dunno ‘bout that cheating accusation… but i’d like to think i’m certainly large enough where it counts.”

You sucked in a breath, and he swore he could nearly feel your skin heat even through his gloves and jacket. Your fingers twitched at their place clasped behind his neck, and it was all he could do to keep climbing.

Finally, a little breathily and _too_ casually, “I mean, you’ve definitely got a sturdy, uh… frame,” you managed.

He bit back a snort and met your eyes for a moment as he turned the corner of the stairwell. “well thank you for that,” he said and rolled his eyes, though his snicker gave his teasing away.

You stuck your tongue out at him as he finally reached the top of the stairwell. “Don’t be rude,” you shot back, still flushed in some kind of embarrassment but with that beautiful spark he adored. You gestured to a door a couple apartments down and he moved towards it.

“ain’t rude to tease someone who’s just that fun to tease,” he said, meeting your eye as he lowered you to your feet. He let his senses flare out - but no, thankfully your apartment and the area seemed clear of threats. You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, and he let a hand linger at your hip.

“Well it’s not fair when you’re a lot harder to tease back,” you retorted, your face flush and gaze bright. For a moment you turned, avoiding his gaze but letting his hand remain as you bent and slipped a hand down to pull up your dress - his breath caught - but then it was back in place, and you had a key in your hand. You inserted it into the lock and turned the key. You leaned back towards him, your hand resting against his chest. Your face was twisted in that sharp look you’d give him when you knew he was up to something, the same softness and amusement that was always behind it there now.

He chuckled. “you’d be surprised when it comes to you, _dulzura_ ,” he said, letting his voice dip low. He _really_ liked the way you had to stop the shiver that crawled up your back.

“... rude,” you simply said again. Your gaze had narrowed, and- _joder_ the heat that was in your expression shook him for a second, and he felt your hands grip the lapel of his suit jacket even as he couldn’t tear his eyes from your face.

Suddenly you pulled downwards, and in surprise he let himself lean the way you pulled and found himself all but forehead-to-forehead with you. Your gaze flickered to his teeth and he felt his magic pulse-

“Thank you, Sans,” you murmured. You tilted your face and pressed your lips to his cheekbone. You lingered for just a moment, and he was so shocked he couldn’t move; he just _felt_ as your hands went wonderfully slack at his chest and your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned in, just a little-

Then you pulled back and opened your posture to put one hand hesitantly on the doorknob. Your gaze went down to the floor, then to your hand on the knob, then back up to him. He wondered if that look in your eye belied even just a fraction of how dazed and light he felt, still standing leaned over, hand at your hip.

You stepped back. “... Goodnight,” you said, a little fast, and suddenly he felt himself catch up and he quickly shifted the hand he had at your hip to your closer hand and grasped it in his gloved one, being careful with your wrist. He tugged you gently to a stop before you could turn around.

He caught your gaze fully, and there was a vague roar of emotions in him that he ignored for the moment in favor of your attention on him. He raised your hand to his lips and kept your eye despite the blue flush he knew was across his face. “ _descansa_ ,” he said. His voice came out a low, rough mess, but he pressed his mouth to your hand and let his magic slip and allow him to gently kiss your knuckles. His soul resonated with the movement, and his chest felt wonderfully tight at the look on your face.

A moment passed and he let your hand slip loose. Absently, still looking at him, you opened the door, and Sans got a glimpse of a small but cozy apartment behind you before you managed to step back into it.

His hands slipped into his pockets as he held your gaze. Your hand still lingered on the doorknob.

Finally, he grinned, the expression still lazy even if he couldn’t fight the influence of the heat that had passed between you. He stepped backwards, shot you a cocky wink, and fell smoothly into a shortcut.

He swore he heard your surprised and exasperated laugh chase him as he twisted through the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans, you mischievous, charming, devilish _troll_
> 
> I seriously am so happy to be back with this story. Things have been really rough this past month, and all of your comments really helped me hold on & get this story back up and running after that little hiatus. My living situation has cleared up significantly - and I've got a month left till it's markedly better. In the meantime, I'll be coming back with weekly updates again! This one brought to you at the beginning of the weekend because I was too excited and didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. <3 
> 
> Things are shifting in the story - something about being kidnapped and fighting for your life removes some barriers & gives you a little... _perspective_ , huh? I hope you all liked the Sans PoV this chapter! Let me know what you think - we'll be back with the Reader perspective next time, but if you liked it I might bring it back at varying points :) 
> 
> It's good to be back.
> 
>  
> 
> \----  
> EDIT (barely 20 minutes later): If you're on Tumblr, come talk to me/poke around at my Undertale sideblog, @nighttimeskels! I reblog Undertale fanart, post a couple of my own doodles, and post the occasional Undertale drabble there. :)


	11. Too Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wondered as much,” you admitted quietly, your tone matching your expression. “After everything that happened… if it had been a small - group, it would make sense for the quiet to follow. But for who we’re dealing with…”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“... es más que eso,” Sans said. His voice had dipped low again, rough, and you realized you were hearing frustration in his words._
> 
>  
> 
> _“The eye of the storm,” you agreed._

It was with a little more triumph and satisfaction than usual that you ate the burger and fries that Grillby had served you. Considering that he nearly pushed you right out of the door the moment you walked in earlier that evening, you felt you had every right to be. You bit back a grin as you reached for a fry, remembering the blast of exasperated heat that had emanated from Grillby across the room when he caught sight of you walking towards him. It had taken several minutes’ arguing and a lot of distraction attempts, but you had convinced him to let you stay. Granted, you were pretty sure it was the lack of magical food at your apartment to help heal you that had finally tipped the scales in your favor, but you’d take it.

“... Don’t look too smug, _alborotadorita._ You’re lucky that your ankle still needed healing,” Grillby grumbled from the other side of the bar. You looked up at him, a twinkle in your eye. He flipped a rag over his shoulder and set down the tumbler he had been polishing. The speakeasy was still nearly empty, yet comfortably filled with the sounds of the band tuning and riffing while the waitstaff set up chairs and got the kitchen up and running.

You winked at him. “Just wanted to enjoy the best food this side of Ebott,” you replied, successfully keeping the laugh out of your words. He rolled his eyes, but his flames flickered at the compliment.

“ _Solo más acá de…?_ ” he responded with a chuckle, giving in to your good humor.

You laughed. “You know that I’ve only got eyes for what you cook up,” you said, popping a fry in your mouth. He crossed his arms and looked at you with a twitch of a smile and a quirk of one firey brow.

“ _Me alegro_ … but still, if you didn’t have anything to help you with your healing at home, you should have said something last night. I would have prepared something for you then.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about it by that point,” you admitted, your expression apologetic. “I certainly regretted it this morning - I was sore twelve ways to the stars and back,” you sighed.

“I’m surprised that Sans didn’t consider that, _de veras_. You let him walk you all the way home, right?” Grillby pressed, suspicion in his flames.

You had to struggle to keep looking at Grillby as you felt the blush creep over you. “Yes, yes, I knew better than that - he even won out and walked me upstairs,” you reassured him. Despite yourself, your hand twitched slightly… your senses pulled a ghost of feeling of him kissing your knuckles again, and something in your chest fluttered slightly.

An inching up in the surrounding air’s temperature brought you out of your distraction. Grillby was leaning one hand on the bar, his other hand framing his hip. You very clearly caught the rare flicker of a wide grin on his face as he shifted closer.

“ _... distraído_ , were you?” He said, his voice crackling. You realized as the flush pulled higher on your face that you decidedly did _not_ like that kind of teasing ammunition levelled at you.

“Tired, really,” you hedged, trying to match his easy grin. “I’m sure Sans was too - that was a fair amount of magic he used.”

Grillby crackled in a chuckle. “ _Mi querida amiga_ , I think you are not giving his stamina enough credit.”

The rise of his brow said everything else he needed to say.

“Grillby, I swear to-”

A brush of a chill swept over your shoulders in a fraction of a second, and you felt a strange wave of displaced _something_ before a gloved hand rested inches from yours on the bar.

“could’ve sworn that you weren’t s’posed to overexert yourself today, canary.”

You looked upwards at the skeleton whose voice you recognized a little more viscerally than you would have liked in front of Grillby, your face flushing deeper and the tingle of butterflies spreading quickly from your gut to sweep through every nerve of yours. Sans had one bone brow ridge lifted, and despite his usual grin you could easily see the wry disapproval. You also thought you caught a bead of sweat at his temple - however that worked.

“How is eating overexerting?” You replied jokingly, trying to recover. It wasn’t really working, but at least you put the effort in.

“i’d wager walking a number of blocks while injured to _get_ here falls under that category.”

“... but the endgame meant food, _magic_ food. For healing.”

“Indeed, Sans, I’m curious - what happened last night? You usually wouldn’t forget something like that - to offer at least a little monster candy or some such,” Grillby broke in.

Sans looked at him as if he was just realizing his old friend stood on the other side of the bar. You stared at your burger, deciding that then would be an excellent time to finish it off.

“... i, uh.” Sans glanced away for a moment, you could tell by the shift in his stance as you took a bite. He was very close to you, his body barely an inch away as he stood next to your stool. “i’ll admit, not my finest moment to overlook that,” he sighed out gruffly.

“Mmm, yes, our canary here mentioned something about being _cansada_ … or was it distracted?” Grillby said thoughtfully, looking upwards, one hand moving to thumb his jaw in consideration.

If only the bar was open underneath the countertop, you might have been able to kick him.

“So how is your day going, Sans? What brings you to _Del Alma_ so early?” You stepped in, shooting what you hoped was an easy and open smile up to him. Judging from the quirk of his grin you weren’t the most successful considering your ongoing blush, but you held his gaze.

“actually, i was going to check and see if you had any magic food, _lo creas o no_ ,” he said with an easier chuckle. You brightened at the faintest blue glow at his cheekbones. “i was going to offer you a shortcut to the best bar in town, if not,” he added with a wink to Grillby. The bartender responded with a roll of his eyes, but he nodded back with a small grin anyways. There was still something sparking in Grillby’s eyes, though, and he caught your narrowed gaze with a crackle of a laugh.

You gave him a pointed look, even if his good humor was infectious as always. You then looked up at Sans again, making sure an easy smile was on your face for sure this time. “Well, I didn’t, but here I am now - care to join?” You offered.

Sans responded by sliding smoothly into the stool at your side. He propped his chin in one hand and closed an eye in a prolonged wink. “that’s the best idea i’ve heard all day, _bar_ none.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth as a breath of a laugh forced itself out of you. “That’s _stool_ kind of you to say,” you replied.

“well you hafta take a _shot_ in the dark sometimes and speak the truth,” he said.

Before you could respond, another crackling came from Grillby, and you and Sans looked at him at the same time. “I’ll get another order for you, Sans, _si?_ ” He asked. His voice had a bit of a tremor to it, and you tilted your head slightly. Grillby was looking at Sans, one arm crossed across his chest to cradle the elbow of his other arm as his hand rested lightly at his jawline. His shoulders shook for just a moment.

“ _eres el mejor_ , Grillb’z,” Sans replied, his grin twitching back to it’s usual lazy air.

Grillby nodded and turned to walk away, but not before a muffled crackle made you realize that he had been laughing at you and Sans.

You stared hard at his back as he walked into the kitchen, struggling between needing to have one hell of a word with your dear friend and never wanting to look him in the eye again.

“how’s your ankle doing, _pájarita?_ ”

… Well, you had better things to focus on right now.

“With this and with how hard I slept, nearly all better,” you replied, gesturing with a smile to what little was left of your burger and the small pile of fries you were still working through. You snagged a fry, swiped it in a bit of ketchup, and lifted it.

“i’m glad you were able to _ketchup_ on your rest, then,” Sans said lightly. You rolled your eyes, your smile perking as you went to shoot him a look - but then you felt his gloved fingers brush against yours. You started, your eyes going to your hand. His hand was already gone from yours, though.

And with it, your fry.

Your gaze shot to him, and you caught him opening his mouth. His sharp canines were just visible, and you caught a glimpse of a blue glow in his mouth before your eyes dragged to his. His gaze was mischievous.

“Sans, don’t you dare,” you warned, even as the heat hit you. His brow lifted, and his mouth pulled a little in a grin. He brought the fry closer to his mouth. You turned slightly towards him, pointing a finger. “Listen, stealing fries means _war_ ,” you said, torn between dead serious and an outright flirting challenge that even you couldn’t deny at this point.

A not-so-small part of you really appreciated the dark glint to his eye.

“i’m not sure you mean that - sharing is caring, after all, and you have plenty of fries left,” he said, gesturing to your plate.

You leaned in. “It’s the principle of the matter,” you shot back, letting your voice get low.

He leaned in, too. “never was very good at keeping up with high morality,” he said. With a short and almost careless movement, he popped the fry in his mouth and grinned at you.

Your mouth popped open and your brows drew down in almost-real indignation. You glared at him, and he grinned back at you in challenge. You took him up on that and leaned forward just a little further, one arm bracing yourself against the bar and the other slipping forward till you had his lapel in your hand. You tugged it gently, pushing down the memories from last night, and lifted a brow at him in mirror of his own expression.

“You don’t know what you just got yourself into, boneboy,” you whispered.

With that you leaned back into your chair and swiped up another fry, bringing it to your mouth far quicker now that you knew his tendencies. Your gaze was forward and you let yourself relax, a cheeky smile still on your face.

His, meanwhile, was dusted with blue and his grin had gone _satisfyingly_ wide.

Within a few moments Grillby was sweeping out of the kitchen with Sans’ food. He deposited it and a fresh bottle of ketchup in front of him, eyeing the distracted look on his face. Sans chuckled roughly as he came back to the moment, glancing at you casually enjoying your fries like nothing had happened.

“thanks,” Sans said to Grillby with a nod. Grillby glanced at you, then back at Sans, and back again. His flames rolled for the briefest moment and then he turned to tend to the rest of his bar.

A few minutes passed in an oddly comfortable silence as you finished your fries and Sans made his way through his food. You really were feeling better - your ankle didn’t hurt at all anymore, though you knew it still looked a little worse for wear. Your wrists, shoulder, and face all felt better too, though the bruise on your shoulder was particularly stubborn and might take another day or two to fade out. At least you weren’t performing today, even if you fully intended to run a few rounds around the floor.

“So I suppose we’ll be seeing more of each other then,” you ventured as your mind wandered to your work. The speakeasy had people filtering in now, and the band was picking up a song to get the mood set.

Sans chuckled again. “nearly every night, by order.”

“And preference?” you added, tilting your head to look at him with a grin. He winked back at you.

“ _siempre sí_ ,” he replied. “tonight though, you’re not performing, _correcta?_ ”

“Not performing, no,” you agreed. “But I will be doing a few rounds later on.”

He eyed you. You knew he was torn between saying something and holding it, so you took mercy.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait a few hours and just do some watching, maybe a little planning for new material. My ankle is all better, so I’m fine to dance,” you said. He huffed out a wry laugh and his face lifted slightly.

“not much i can hope for outside of that, _creo_ ,” he said. His expression shifted then, something serious making it’s way to the way he considered you. “... be careful, alright? there’s... well, just be careful of what’s moving about right now.”

You considered him in return. “... How serious are the movements, then?”

His gaze was dark. “last night was a good indicator,” was all he said. You nodded, a frown pulling at your lips. He stood up then, and you realized he had finished eating. One of his hands settled in his pocket, but the other lifted to your shoulder. “watch out for yourself, alright?”

You smiled up at him, warmth in your chest. “Of course,” you replied.

He grinned down at you. “good. i’ll be watching, too,” he said, his voice low. His hand at your shoulder lifted, hesitating for just a moment near your cheek. The air was thick, and the way the soft lighting of the chandeliers and candles fell cast a warm glow over the two of you. In a small, gentle movement, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i’ll be back at the end of the night,” he said.

“See you then,” you said, a little breathlessly.

The soft expression on his face perked, and he shot you another wink at that and stepped away. The speakeasy was filling up again already, and a small group of monsters passed between you and him as he moved away, and once they were out of the way he was nowhere to be seen.

“Showoff,” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes, even as your smile spread on your face.

 

* * *

 

Your readiness and a new wave of patrons only kept you away from the stage for one more day. Meeting with Sans the night before was a quick affair, though you had to force yourself to ignore the spark of disappointment you had felt at its short length. The night had been quiet - for  _Del Alma_ , anyways - and there was nothing unusual to report. He was needed for something else, he had said, but before he had left he had shot you a wink and a glance that you would have sworn lingered more than usual.

The next few weeks passed similarly. For whatever reason, you hadn’t seen any activity that rang of _Il Sangue_ , though you had a handful of rowdy groups that you had a hand in tipping off Grillby about.

Still, you saw Sans every night.

It became a routine - as the night was winding down for you, to where customers were either leaving or retreating to more casual drinking and chatting among friends, you would grab two drinks and some food from Grillby before claiming a booth tucked away in a corner. Sans’ shadow would appear at your shoulder a few minutes later, and you’d catch him mid-greeting with a smooth slide of a Bloody Mary into his quickly-reacting hand. He’d slide into the booth, you’d let him know what happened - which, to what you firmly told yourself was _not_ disappointment, was little to nothing - and then you’d share your drinks in a few moments of peaceful quiet. Granted, the moments were regularly broken by either him trying to shock an undignified reaction out of you with a joke, or by you doing… precisely the same in return. Still, your very core was warm whenever he was there with you, the ease of sitting across from him settling a simultaneously tense and relaxing buzz through your body whenever you’d catch his eye.

Even if you didn’t know much about one another’s personal lives, you began to be very adept at picking up on the tiny queues given in betraying your moods. It was easy, in a way - you had a feeling Sans was more relaxed in those liminal moments with you late at night than he was in most other circumstances. It was easy to read the small shifts to his expressions with that. It was also easy enough to push away the warm feelings that pulled in you at that realization, because you noticed as the tension seeped into Sans over the weeks.

One night, you decided to stop letting him play it off.

“Hey, Sans.”

“mm?”

The circles of light in his eyesockets trained on you, even as his face was tilted towards the rest of the large speakeasy. His arms were resting on the back of the semi-circle booth, seeming the picture of ease to anyone who glanced over. The line of tension that pulled at his neck and ran worn shadows under his eyes betrayed him to you, though.

“What’s going on?”

The delay of a moment before his brow rose was enough to tell you that you had the right instincts.

“what do you mean, canary?” he asked, still comfortable enough to not pull a totally unnatural grin, even as he played unaware. You quirked your own brow back at him, swirling what was left of your drink absently in your glass.

“You’re tense.”

“i _muscle_ admit, i don’t think bones can be tense,” he said with a grin. You huffed out a laugh to humor him, but matched his casual posture and seemingly unassuming expression. Both of your gazes were glinting with a sharpness despite your matched air.

“Nice try - but we see one another nearly every night, boneboy. Something has been building up in the background, hasn’t it?” You say, soft enough, but unwavering in your gaze. “There’s a stress that’s pulling at you.”

Sans looked at you, remaining silent this time. You returned the look, taking a sip of your drink.

In the background the band played on, the night winding down, the relaxed atmosphere of widespread non-sobriety a comforting one. There wasn’t tension between you and Sans, but you had to swallow down a bit of guilt for putting him on the spot. He was still quiet, still looking at you, and you knew that he was thinking about what he wanted to tell you. And he knew that you knew that.

You sighed, a small, subdued smile on your lips as you looked at him. “You don’t have to tell me details. But… if there’s something I can do, you can let me know, okay?”

The look in his eyes went a fraction softer then. He shifted slightly, laying one arm against the table, closing his body off to the room slightly but remaining open to you. You leaned forward, resting your forearms against the table in response, patient.

He regarded you for a few more moments before speaking. “... _escucha, dulzura -_ you know how this business runs. and i mean that as as much of a compliment as it can be,” he started, flashing you a slightly dark and fanged grin in spite of his seriousness. You shot back a bit of a playful smirk, a spike of heat pulsing in your chest. He glanced away to the room, then back to you. “i can’t spare much, you know. but... whatever has been going down here, it’s reflecting what we’ve been seeing out there. and that kinda quiet… that isn’t good, not in our circles.”

The world had faded out to the two of you once more. A small bunch of softly glowing crystals on the wall of your booth and a single cupped flame on the table were all the lighting cast upon the two of you. His eyes held you captive, and you were willing and complicit in that. Both of your expressions had shifted fully to something serious.

The shadows crawled at your back.

“I wondered as much,” you admitted quietly, your tone matching your expression. “After everything that happened… if it had been a small - _group_ , it would make sense for the quiet to follow. But for who we’re dealing with…”

“... _es más que eso_ ,” Sans said. His voice had dipped low again, rough, and you realized you were hearing frustration in his words.

“The eye of the storm,” you agreed.

You both were quiet then. The little flame on your table danced a slow dance, and the gentle licks of light cast a curious contrast to your grim determination and Sans’ knowing rumination.

“... Promise me something.”

Sans’ brow perked again at that. “can’t say i’m much of one for promises, doll,” he said, his voice easier.

You huffed a breath through your nose. It fit him, really. “Still - at least keep something in mind for me?”

A strange sort of smile pulled at his expression. “what’s that?” he said, both humoring and dodging you.

“Keep watch out for your _own_ back - even half as much as you do others’,” you replied, looking him dead in the eye, your voice soft and serious.

His eye sockets widened a fraction.

You smiled at him. It was equal parts cleverly saucy and damningly serious.

He leaned forward after a moment, recovering his expression, cocking a matching grin at you.

“... let’s see you do the same, _cariña_ ,” he replied.

You weren’t sure if the buzz of goosebumps on your arms was from the influence of his knowing smirk or the grave roll of his tone.

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearly a week later and the warmth blooming across your cheeks as you cocked a curtsy to the crowd mirrored the warmth you felt in your core. Your smile was wide as you took a few deep breaths to regain yourself in the moment of rest between songs. You heard the band shifting behind you in preparation of your next song, and your eyes swept over the audience. It was the end of the week, so a full crowd met your gaze; a burst of fire to the side caught your eye as Grillby performed a little extra for his own small crowd, and the cheers at that end of the room quirked your smile into a grin.

The rest of the crowd was its standardly fascinating mix of humans and monsters, blending as much as they ever would in a conspiring sense of charmed illicit conspiratorialism, and it didn’t escape your eye that there had been a slight increase in the number of regular human patrons. It was a warm acknowledgement, as people were more and more at ease with intermingling.

… What also didn’t escape your eye though, more pressingly, was the crooked smirk of an incredibly familiar skeleton that had appeared at an unusually empty table at the edge of the dancefloor.

It was a damn good thing that you had so many years of performance under your belt, or you might have missed your entrance with the swell of elated butterflies in your gut. You took a deep breath and let your blush work for you as you dragged your focus back to your performance.

_“Hey handsome have you got the time? I've been watching you since the moment you arrived - a white suit from London, and shoes from Paris… Don't you wanna spend about an hour with me?”_

Whistles and a few hoots echoed around the room as you dipped into the song. You shot a wink to one corner of the audience where you knew Fuku had been the source of one of the cheers, and swayed your hips slow and close to the mic stand as you made your way through the first verse and into the beginning of the chorus.

Your gaze slipped slyly to Sans as you started the second verse. His shoulders shook slightly in a chuckle that you had no chance of hearing, but the ghost of memory slipped it’s feeling along your skin regardless.

_“Don't know why you play hard to get. I'm here to kiss away any thoughts of regret - a silk tie from Siam shows elegance and class. Handsome as the heavens that a film would never cast-”_

You leaned into your mic further, your hands slipping down the pole lightly as you tilted it off-center. Another wave of cheers rose in the room as you continued, and your eyes slipped shut for a moment as your voice dipping into a smoky caress. _  
_   
“-but underneath the mask I see the skin of a man, smooth and seductive who's really got a plan. It's drawing me in, magnetically to you. You haven't got forever, but I got that too…”

The trumpet rose and the band thrummed behind you as you dove back into the chorus with a rise and flair of your hand. Your core beat heavy and almost pained with the feeling of the song, and you relished the emotion and poured it right back into your voice.

Dancers in front of the stage twirled and rolled with the music. Across the cavernous room, patrons of the speakeasy rolled in time to your voice and the beat of the song, the ethereal light of the glowing crystals and flames glinting off of glasses of all shapes and sizes.

The rest of the song flowed from you and the band with the hint of a sinisterly sultry lilt that you had rehearsed well. You teased your lower lip between your teeth as the band took over and lead you into the final chorus round. At the last lines, you let your gaze slip back to Sans.

_“I'll take your hand and then your worries too; in just one dance I'll make your dreams come true - your dreams come true, mmm…”_

And with a swirling improvisation of the trumpets, the song faded out.

The cheers swept through the room as you turned and smiled at the brilliant band behind you. Focusing forward, you spoke up. “We’ll go on a little intermission from little old me for a bit, but I’ll be back later tonight - in the meantime, give it up for our lovely band who will keep the music flowing for you lovely, lovely folk!”

With a wave and a steady stride you made your way off the stage, whispering thanks and encouragement to the band who returned your wishes with winks and their own grins.

The internal conflict hit you as you walked down the small set of stairs - should you play it easy and go visit Grillby for a drink, or visit an intriguingly early Sans? You knew yourself too well to deny that the temptation was strong...

“i see that you’re living up to the title _como siempre,_ canary.”

And there he was, waiting for you in front of the wings of the stage, tucked in the shadows cast by the enormous curtains, his hands slipped in his pockets. You couldn’t help the grin that he always brought to your face as you stepped over to him.

There was _that_ internal struggle resolved.

“To what do I owe the honors of such an early visit tonight, Sans?” you asked, a genuine curiosity behind your easy and playful words. He stood straighter as you approached, and you stopped a little closer than you meant to with his movement - close enough to need to tilt your face upwards slightly to meet his gaze.

“found myself playing something of a waiting game… so i figured i’d wait somewhere with _mejor compañía_ ,” he replied with a slow wink that he held as he looked back at you. You laughed, caught surprised and somewhat flustered. A thought strayed to wondering how much longer you’d be able to stand the growing pleasant tension between you two-

“Care to join me for a customary drink, then?” You said a little quickly, cutting off your thoughts. You weren’t going to deny your attraction, but damn if you’d let yourself slip too strongly into what-if’s.

He hummed for a moment, his eyes drifting to the room. If it wasn’t for the mischievous quirk to his grin, you’d think he was earnestly considering his options.

Then, “actually, thought i’d take you up on that challenge from earlier,” he said, his gaze still towards the room.

Your brows drew down slightly, a confused sound humming out of you in return.

His gaze moved back to you at last. “about that one dance,” he said, his gaze bright under his lidded sockets.

A moment of confusion continued before you felt the heat blaze across your skin in realization. You were grateful for the shadows masking the flush that arose as the words you had just sang directly to him burned across your mind-

_… in just one dance, I’ll make your dreams come true._

His grin grew as you opened your mouth and words failed to come out. You had the distinct feeling that he _could_ see your flush even in the darkness.

And in valiant recovery, you got your mind back together and cocked a hip slightly to one side.

Fight fire with fire, as they say.

“Hmm, I see…” You lifted one hand and tapped a finger thoughtfully your chin. A sly grin spread across your face even if you couldn’t get your blushing under control. “Do you think you’ll be able to keep up?”

He laughed a low, short laugh and extended a hand to you, barely having to move in proximity. “i have a feeling that you’ll be well surprised, _monada_.”

“Well then, let’s see if you live up to that kind of promise,” you said, leaning close. You brushed your hand down his tie as if smoothing out a wrinkle, letting your hand linger with your gaze before you slipped your hand in his. The leather was as soft as you remembered, and his fingers slipped closed around your hand, a firm and oddly gentle strength lying in the bones beneath the material.

Before he could try to trip up your good recovery, you tugged him forward and made your way to the crowd in front of the stage. He followed close behind you with a chuckle as you felt a buzzing tingle where your hand was clasped with his. It matched the intoxicating excitement in your core.

You had it bad, but you knew there was at least a little returned interest from Sans… so you were determined to let yourself live it a little.

At the very least, you knew you could give him one hell of a run for his teasing money.

Just as you managed to get towards the center of the dancefloor, you felt a gentle tugging - then suddenly you were pulled towards Sans. Your hand met his chest to catch yourself, and his hand lifted yours as his other arm circled around you to hold you steady.

“what, fallin’ for me already?”

You huffed out a laugh and smacked him lightly on the chest. He just grinned at you, his face tilted close to yours.

The band kicked into action then, a quick song their first choice. You pulled away from Sans slightly in reaction, leaving your hand resting on his chest as you swayed your hips with a cheeky smile. He drew you back just a hair closer to him, his hand gentle but firm as it slipped to your hip, the other shifting to let your hand be cupped in his own.

“I’ve got to _hand_ it to you, you can certainly talk the talk-” you began with a wink and a light squeeze to his hand - but before you could finish your sentence, he lead you easily into a short twirl and stepped forward, directing you deftly in his steady hold. You responded on instinct, stepping back then following him as he shifted and stepped back and then to the side, his grip on your hip nearly electric through the shifting material of your dress. While he didn’t weave you through the crowd as Papyrus had weeks ago, he had a heated, _intimate_ style to his movements with you that drew you in, drew you closer, until you were nearly brushing your hips against his as you rolled your body along the steps he lead you in.

“... now, how were you going to finish that sentence, _estrella?_ ” he teased, his hand slipping a little closer to low, low on your back.

You opened your mouth a fraction, a fire in your gaze that he seemed to drink in.

Damn, he was _good_.

Your lower lip slipped between your teeth, and you teased it for a moment, relishing the way his gaze flashed to your mouth. You dragged your lip slowly, releasing it after a tortuous moment. Barely a beat passed before his gaze slipped back to you with a spark of mischief and then he spun you out - you flowed with the motion and the pulse of the music outwards, the crowd shifting naturally around you before he pulled you back in and then your back was to him, your arms crossed in front of your torso and your hands resting in his. You rolled your body and hips downwards slightly in easy, enticing circles and then back up again, your face turned slightly to the side.

He lifted your hands above your head smoothly as you rose, allowing you to twist around and face him once more, his left hand sliding smoothly down your bare arm, to your hip - and you rolled slightly forward as you followed the shifting of his feet, your torso brushing against him as you lifted your hand and slipped it up, up his chest, to ghost over his collarbone and rest at the crook of his neck against his collar, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

A spark of blue caught your briefly closed eyes and you opened them quickly to look at him with a skip of your heartbeat as he _growled_ , a low, almost unheard sound - you would have doubted your ears if you hadn’t felt the rumble against your hand. As the sound slipped out of him his hand moved to your lower back, and suddenly he pulled you in tight and dipped you low, your back arching smoothly in his strong grasp.

The moment seemed to hold for an impossible amount of time.

All at once, suspended in his hold and in that fraction of time, you felt a fire blazing through you, the insistent pounding of your heart, Sans’ intoxicatingly steady grip on you, and his eyes catching yours from a place electrifyingly close to your chest... You felt a heat at the dip of your cleavage, Sans’ impossible breath tickling and flushing your skin.

His gaze was so close to _hungry_ and you could see what you realized with a jolt were sharp canines displayed in his grin, and the heat pooled low in your gut as your breath hitched-

And then he was pulling you upwards once more in a smooth motion. Immediately you stepped together in movements that felt like your very core knew intimately, to the side and back again, your body now flush against his as the song slipped into a slower, heavier beat. Your words had fled you, but somehow you didn’t mind - every ounce of you was challenging him as much as he was challenging you, and you held his gaze with a spark in your eye that you caught matched in his own. A wide grin was on your flushed face even with the heat of the way he held you, and a cocky slip to his own sharper grin answered yours.

The song rolled to a thrumming close as he twirled you smoothly once, twice, three times, rolling his own hips slow and purposefully with yours as the band drew out the last note. He held your gaze as the crowd cheered the band onto the next song, and you wanted to push even closer to him, hard and slow and to show him just what kind of challenge you could give him-

A tap on your shoulder made you gasp lightly and break gazes with Sans. You twisted towards the source of the interruption.

Sans’ hand tensed at your back, pressing you closer for just the slightest moment and nearly distracting you all over again before the new party began speaking.

“Excuse me, miss? I just wanted to say - I mean, I didn’t want to interrupt during the song but oh my word, here you are, I couldn’t resist, I mean your singing earlier-”you were nearly face to face with an ecstatic younger woman, a woman who had probably barely outgrown the term ‘girl’, and a small group of friends pressed close at her back, two other women and two men. Sans’ hand drifted to your hip - you wondered if that was reluctance you felt in his movement, but you pushed that thought to the side - and he let your hand lift from his other. You pressed it to your chest above your heart as the woman went on, leaving you speechless for the moment in her eagerness. “-we’ve been coming for the past week or so, we were all nervous since this is such a - ah, you know, _famous_ speakeasy, and every night though, it’s been so amazing and the drinks and you performing - we didn’t have the courage to approach earlier, you know-”

Your mind worked quickly on instinct thankfully, and you caught the fluttering of her hands in anxious excitement, the fine thread of her dress and the clothes of her friends, the nervous and slight glance to the side as she said _famous_ , clearly dodging the word she had intended to use. Sans was still and quiet at your back, letting the group’s focus not be on him, and you immediately understood his strategy and had no doubt he was taking all of that in and more.

“-and I mean, _wow_ , I know you have a residency here, but you could really make it anywhere! Not that I mean - well, that is, you should see if you’d like performing spotlight shows around town, you know? You’d do so well, and I bet your boss would love the business you’d draw back, and other speakeasies would get the benefit of a talent like you drawing more in for the night-”

You laughed lightly and naturally, slipping into your role with a kind and knowing sparkle to your eye. “Thank you for such a positive review,” you said with a wink, and the group of humans pressed closer at your words as the next song picked up. “Are you inviting me to perform somewhere in particular?” You asked lightly. You felt what you thought was a pulse of approval from the skeleton behind you, but you couldn’t focus on the odd certainty.

“If you’re willing, oh wow, yes!” The girl - woman - in front gushed. Two of her friends nodded eagerly behind her. “I help drum up talent on the sly for a joint downtown, and we’d be honored if you’d come to something of a spotlight night we’re doing tomorrow - whatever you can fit in, if you’re interested,” she continued, and the way she said it made you catch just why someone so seemingly innocent would be put on that kind of job.

Your thoughts raced for a moment. You had no interest in performing for another speakeasy, and the sort of downtown speakeasy that a group like this would frequent implied _human_ , with little other variety - and that spelt danger and regardless wasn’t your cup of tea. But something in you caught on this - Gaster’s instructions rang in your mind, and you knew the potential to see activity at that sort of speakeasy that wouldn’t reveal itself so readily in the heart of the biggest monster-run speakeasy in the city.

“Well, I can’t make any promises with my schedule, but I can’t say the idea isn’t appealing,” you responded smoothly with a thoughtful lilt to your voice.

The woman bit down a brilliant smile and shifted, slipping a card out of a small pocket sewn in her dress. She passed it to you, and you accepted it, glancing down at the scrawled words on its surface, unable to make out what it said in the low light and shadows of the dancers.

“If you decide yes, then you can meet us at the corner of 8th and Teller tomorrow at 9pm,” she said. “We’ll lead you there, and you can try your hand at performing a few classics, our band has a phenomenal repertoire so you don’t have to worry there,” she said happily.

You smiled back in an open, friendly manner. “If I do, I’ll be there within five minutes of the hour,” you replied. She nearly squealed in response, looking back at her friends eagerly. The music was picking up and the crowd was pressing in, though, so she looked back at you with a bright smile and a quick nod, then waved and followed her friends swiftly off the floor.

You let a few moments pass in the wake of the sudden interruption, waiting... then without glancing back you slipped your hand over to grab the one Sans still held at your hip. You wove your fingers between his and moved in the opposite direction of the group, pulling him with you as you slipped through the crowd with a practiced ease.

After some weaving you were at the shadowy edge of the curtains framing the stage, without anyone paying either of you mind as the band and speakeasy resounded with lively music and waiters rushing about with more drinks and food.

At last, reassured you had a measure of privacy, you let yourself look at Sans. He was looking at the card in your hand that you held discreetly near your chest. You thought you caught a hint of blue along his cheekbones even with his more serious gaze as he looked up to meet your eyes. With a start you realized you were still holding his hand, and let it go as a blush rose on your own cheeks.

“Ah, sorry about that,” you said quickly, glancing away with an embarrassed grin.

You felt the huff of his breath and looked back at him. He was grinning, something both soft and sharp about it - which wasn’t really helping your blush.

“you won’t catch me complaining about any  _tacto_ from you, _dulzura_ ,” he said with an impish tilt to his expression.

After the way he had danced with you earlier, you didn’t think you could doubt that even when flustered.

“ _Sans_ ,” you nearly groaned, halfway between an amused chuckle and a flustered and ineffective rebuttal. He winked at you, and you could see him nearly say something more- then his eyes flashed down to the card you still held as if remembering something. You sighed and lifted it. “Honestly, I’m not interested in performing at what’s more than likely a thinly-veiled elitist sort of human speakeasy, what with the part of town it seems to be in-”

Your words cut off as your eyes finally registered what was written on the card.

Sans didn’t have to say anything for you to hear the question he had at your reaction. He stepped closer, brushing against your side slightly as you shifted to let him look at the card. His hand lifted to the small of your back as he leaned in slightly to catch the poorly-lit words.

You turned your face to look at him, torn at what you had just found out and the frustratingly and wonderfully distracting feeling of his touch and proximity. Your concern won out, but only just.

“Sans, this is…” you trailed off, not sure if he _wouldn’t_ recognize the name. You felt him tense as he finally focused on the tactfully faded letters. You nodded at his recognition, your gaze shifting to look back at the simple name that graced the card.

 _Notte Oscura_.

You had just been handed the calling card of the biggest, most elite human speakeasy in the city.

Sans eyes went to you, and you matched his gaze. You weren’t sure how, but you knew what that dark look on his face meant - it was something you had wondered about for a while, but you found yourself beginning to ask the question even still.

“...  Are they…?” you murmured. You knew, you knew already, even as his gaze rested on you in pause, even as you weren’t sure you should finish.

Sans rose to stand straight once more, his hand still on your back and his other in his pocket, his gaze on you, dark and knowing in its consideration.

Quietly, so low that you could barely catch his words and had to draw just a little closer, he answered you.

“ _si_ \- _Notte Oscura_ … the biggest speakeasy supplied by _Il Sangue_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Okay, so I was torn about how to split up this and the next chapter and y'know what, this chapter in the form of 7.5+K words won out, woops. Sorry about the delay because of that - hopefully this didn't get too odd with the needed couple of timeshifts. For records, by the end of the chapter about 1 month has passed since the kidnapping.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support! I read and re-read your comments over and over as I work on each chapter, and they really keep me going <3 Things are building in the story, and are only going to get more dangerous and intriguing for our canary and Sans and the rest of our characters... I always love to hear your thoughts & reactions - I'm not going to lie, I'm curious about what you think of your first dance with Sans, among some of the other pieces loaded in this chapter, heh. 
> 
> Hope you all are doing well! If you'd like to talk and/or check out my tumblr for Undertale (both reblogs of art/videos/music and some original Undertale drabbles & drawings from me), I'm [nighttimeskels](nighttimeskels.tumblr.com) over there! I've gotten an ask or two about Speakeasy Soul, and in response posted some of my headcanon voices for our bilingual monsters, if that catches your interest. :)


	12. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How do you even do that,” you managed, breathless and left with flustered laughter shaking out of you again. You couldn’t quite look at him in the eyes, so you settled for addressing the soft collar of his shirt. The deep crimson color was an odd comfort now, something that you had become so used to, paired with the deep charcoal of his suit jacket. Your hands rested against his chest, and you felt the rumble of his chuckle along your palms and arms and chest…_
> 
> _“don’t have the slightest idea of what you mean, chispita.”_

“You’re going to wear a path around the room at this rate, _pajarita_.”

You looked over at Grillby from the edge of the glass you cradled near your lips. Your feet kept carrying you forward, but a tug of grudging acceptance of his concern led you to loop around to your usual stool at the far end of the bar. The fizzing pink magic of your drink wasn’t distraction enough, and you were trying to make it last - even if your hand itched to toss the glass back and drain it.

Grillby gave you a knowing look. A thoughtful few seconds passed as he finished a note on the stock list for his bar. Quietly then, he set down the pad and made his way from behind the bar around to you. A frustrated sigh slipped out of you as he took the stool next to you and faced you.

Your head dipped and you pinched the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb.

“There’s so many ways this could go, Grillby,” you muttered.

“ _Esto es verdad_ ,” Grillby said. His arms crossed his chest and he leaned lightly against the bar.

“The opportunity for information is… stars, it’s nearly priceless,” you continued, gesturing vaguely and emphatically, “but at the same time… I can admit that I’m decently recognizable…” Your eyes drifted to the side with a grimace.

“You don’t want to walk into a trap,” Grillby supplied. You nodded, your eyes slipping to him.

“But it’s worth it, isn’t it? It’s been hard to pick up anything new, I think, and _Il Sangue_ isn’t exactly easy to trail…”

Grillby’s flames shifted in faster flickers, and his face tilted down towards you. The almond pools of solid flame that were his eyes focused hard on you behind his glinting glasses.

“There is nothing that is worth the foolish offering of your life, _listillita_.” Grillby held your gaze firmly, and you found your racing mind calming, even just slightly. Your mouth was still pulled slightly down, but at last you nodded. His gaze stayed on you, but after a few more moments he looked appeased and his expression lightened. “ _Además_ \- I do not think that they would send you in regardless of risk. No doubt they are talking extensively over the options as it is.”

Your posture relaxed and straightened. “You’re right - you are, I can admit that,” you said with a laugh as Grillby’s expression broke into a playfully disbelieving smirk. You smacked him lightly on his bicep with a roll of your eyes. “Regardless, I may not have had enough time spent with all of them yet, but I think… _certain folk_ in the group have a keener care for their resources than you might expect, at least to some degree,” you added. You had no doubt that Gaster would cut whatever weight he deemed needed cutting, that’s for sure… you felt the chill of a near-shiver at your shoulder blades. Still, he wasn’t one to waste what he valued.

Grillby carefully looked away. He crackled low, though, and you knew that he had more awareness of the shadows than any creature made of flames should. “It’s only good business,” he offered vaguely. You huffed an odd sort of laugh.

“Precisely.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t have offered, though, if you thought it wasn’t a worthwhile option,” Grillby said, his face tilting back towards you.

Your lips pursed and your brow furrowed. “Naturally.” You were quiet for a moment. Then, “I believe there are precautions we can take on the side of safety… and there’s more than one thing I’d like to learn more about,” you said.

“honestly, _latidita_ , you’re not the only one who feels that way.”

For the first time in a while, Sans’ sudden appearance jolted awareness and a hot brush of tingling awareness up your arms.

“Sans-!” You managed, half breathless, swinging around in your stool to look up at him. Your knees nearly brushed against his legs, he stood so close.

“that’s the name, doll,” he replied with a wink. His tone was light but just the slightest bit tight, and that tension was a careful hard line in his shoulders even as he stood easy with his hands in his pockets.

Grillby straightened slightly in his stool, eyeing his friend. His flames flickered. “... Interesting,” he said quietly. Sans’ eyes and your own slipped over to him, curiosity in yours and a measured amusement in Sans’.

“y’know, that _bright_ eye of yours is a bit _hot_ on the back of a guy like me, sometimes,” Sans said. His grin stretched as his eye sparkled despite his words. Grillby rolled his eyes but crackled in a low chuckle regardless. He rolled to a smooth stand and clapped a hand on Sans’ shoulder.

“... _confío en ti a hacer lo que hay que hacer_ ,” Grillby said, meeting the gaze of the skeleton monster unwaveringly. A heavy moment hung in the air as Grillby’s flames cast a warm and intimate light in the dark corner of the speakeasy’s bar, Sans’ eye sockets still impossibly dark despite the light and the small white circles that focused on Grillby in return.

Sans nodded, a single motion without a trace of levity. Grillby returned the nod, his soft, nearly-imperceptible smile returning. He looked to you and shifted his hand to rest briefly on your shoulder.

“Make good choices,” he said, a spark of mischief in his eyes. You felt your face shift in slight confusion as a somewhat less appropriate corner of your mind threatened to rise a flush to your features.

“If they present themselves,” you managed to reply, a laugh in your voice. Both monsters in front of you laughed at that, the rich crackling tones of Grillby’s laughter mixing warmly with Sans’ rumbling baritone and leaving you grinning. Still chuckling, Grillby turned with a final nod and strode off to the kitchen.

You slipped to your feet as Sans’ laughter quieted, and you found that flush definitively dusting your face at the sight of the soft edge to the grin that had settled on his face.

“So what’s the situation?” You asked, working to ignore your usual instinctive reaction to that grin of his.

He shifted his weight on his feet, his expression weighing down for just a moment. “much as i hate to have to be one of the ones entertaining the thought of you in a sticky situation…” his grin twitched downwards, and he glanced away. “... well, i know that you’re up to the challenge, canary. can’t deny that, especially when you’ve said so yourself,” he added, looking back to you. Your chest had pulled at his words, but the last addition lit the determination in you that had already been smoldering as your mind pulled through it’s options. You nodded, and he huffed a wry chuckle. “if that’s still how you feel, then, we’ve got a meeting to go to.”

Your brows lifted at this. “You mean…?”

He offered his arm and looked at you with a waggle of his brow. “wouldn’t wanna keep Pap waiting, would you?”

You couldn’t help the sudden laugh that bubbled out of you. Your hands flew to your mouth as you couldn’t quiet yourself, the sound bright even muffled behind your fingers. Sans’ grin grew. You managed to swallow your giggles after a few more seconds, and you stepped to stand close in front of Sans.

“How could I disappoint such a smooth dancer?” You replied, slipping your hand to rest on his arm.

In a short blur of movement, you felt Sans shift the arm you held and suddenly that arm was scooping you flush against him low on your back, his other hand joining the first with a tingling slip down your arm.

“looking like that, I can say for certain you don’t,” he said.

Well, there went _that_ hope of keeping your blush to a minimum.

“How do you even _do_ that,” you managed, breathless and left with flustered laughter shaking out of you again. You couldn’t quite look at him in the eyes, so you settled for addressing the soft collar of his shirt. The deep crimson color was an odd comfort now, something that you had become so used to, paired with the deep charcoal of his suit jacket. Your hands rested against his chest, and you felt the rumble of his chuckle along your palms and arms and chest…

“don’t have the slightest idea of what you mean, _chispita_.”

This drew your eyes back upwards, a disbelieving and amused look on your flushed face. His eyes were bright and focused on you. Your faces were incredibly close, and an overwhelming memory of your dance just hours before pushed it’s way through your mind, your body, every one of your senses...

Before he could continue, you responded with as much breath as you could muster at the moment, “Let me guess - _magia?”_

His eyes widened slightly, and blue dusted his cheekbones at what you realized might have been your intriguingly breathless reply.

“something like that,” he managed, an echo of his grin on his expression. Your chest tightened, and a strange moment drug out between the two of you. Then, he whispered throatily, “hold tight.”

Your arms slipped over his shoulders and you clasped your hands behind his neck gently, without hesitation - but with a very hard beating of your heart.

And then you fell.

The darkness pulled you in and out and tight towards Sans all at once, rushing past you with a soundless roar and twisting you round and down before-

-without ceremony, it stopped. You felt warmth at your chest and light behind your tightly shut eyes - which you opened quickly, not realizing you had even clenched them shut. You were met with the sight of a red collar and dusty-white bone.

In a jolt you pulled backwards, your breath hitching for a moment as your eyes darted upwards and caught Sans’ expression, decidedly blue, looking behind you. His arms loosened around you and you matched his movement on instinct, stepping back despite the nearly imperceptible slowing of his hands as they brushed by your hips.

The way his eyes held behind you let you know that by the stars, you needed to take a steadying breath before turning around. So you did, and it was with only a slight flush and a well-disguised racing heart that you were able to turn a moment later to greet your companions.

Papyrus, naturally… and Gaster himself.

Well, that one may have taken you a very brief part off-guard. You were a hand more grateful for that breath a moment ago, seeing as it had now swiftly left your body.

You stepped forward regardless. You had a role to fill, after all.

Before you could fill it, though, your face met firmly with the well-dressed chest of a towering skeleton.

“GREETINGS, _AMIGITA DE TALENTO!”_

Papyrus bright and warm greeting vibrated through you, tickling your nose with the vibrations from his words as he scooped you up in a warm hug, letting you down just as quickly and gently before headbutting you gently on each cheek.

A laugh bubbled out of you once more as you realized he had just pressed kisses against your cheeks - a moment delayed, you realized his bones had shifted slightly pliably as he did so, feeling shockingly more like a kiss than you would have suspected from a skeleton. You squeezed his arm as he stepped away, giving him a bright smile in return.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Papyrus,” you said genuinely. You had missed him in the past few weeks, there was no doubt there. “How are you doing?”

He swept into a genteel and bravacious bow, dipping his head before looking back up at you with a wide smile. “QUITE WELL, THANK YOU! I HOPE THIS EVENING IS GOING WELL FOR YOU, TOO?”

He audibly winked.

Apparently, the penchant for teasing was a _family_ trait.

You looked him hard in the eye with a knowing look, but a smile ruined the faux-seriousness. “Much better now that I’m in your great presence again,” you replied smoothly. If you had looked back, you would have seen the soft, fond way Sans’ looked at you - as it was, you simply split into a fleeting grin at the slightly orange-faced taller brother in front of you, who rose from his bow. You shot him a wink back before focusing back on the sitting area behind him.

Gaster effectively graced the centerpiece chair, a lounging leather affair that his enormous stature managed to effortlessly complement. His suit was dark and laced with the impossible shadows it had been dripping with before and he had his hands steepled in front of him, his gaze resting on you with what you swore might have been a _smirk_.

You stepped forward and swept once more into a mix of a curtsy and a bow, lifting your eyes to his own.

“Good evening, sir.”

His single white pupil was trained on you. Despite his good humor, you felt the shadows creeping towards you, a heavy darkness tinting your senses, an impossible gravity pulling you in.

Your gaze held steady on his even so, and with a slight twist to your lips you resisted the slip of singularity on you. Your brows tugged inwards just slightly as stubborn certainty kept your core steady, even as you fought the flare of nerves in your gut from potentially displeasing the _literal mob boss_ who sat in front you.

His magic swirled dangerous and deep around you, even if you couldn’t entirely see it. It felt like it existed outside of this reality, rather lying in some adjacent, overlapping world that threatened to tear at the fabric of this one. A creeping tendril of doubt in your mind insisted that you were digging your own grave by resisting, by potentially upsetting him - but you wouldn’t cave, not like this, no matter how he played his cards, still leaving you frozen in place even as you resisted his pull.

And then rich static popped and rolled through the room, and the darkness lifted. Your body felt lighter and you fought a wave of lightheadedness as you realized he was laughing.

“Good evening to you as well, _tormentita_ ,” he said at last. His voice lapped itself and strung heavy and low through the room. You fought to keep a neutral expression on - or rather, regain it after that silent testing of wills - but your mouth twitched at the nickname. You wondered if it would stick.

A close presence at your right side broke your consideration of the deceptively at-ease monster in front of you.

“ _ella no cambió de idea,_ ” Sans said. He stood surprisingly straight, with only the slightest hint of a confident slouch in his posture. His arm was only a hair’s breadth away from your own. You took a deep breath to refocus yourself.

Gaster nodded, a bare slip of a movement. His expression was pleased.

“It would take a lot more than a little rival-environment risk to change my mind,” you said easily. Your hands slipped to clasp one another behind your back. You held yourself well, powerfully, _confidently_ , radiating a sureness that you wouldn’t shy from.

“YOU’VE GOT A SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT OF BRAVERY, CANARY,” Papyrus praised you from your left. You glanced up at him with some surprise on your face. “THIS WILL BE NO SMALL TASK,” he continued, looking down at you. His bright smile was still on his face, but his gaze was as serious as you had seen it. “STILL, I BELIEVE THAT I HAVE COME UP WITH AN EXCELLENT PLAN TO PROVIDE YOU WITH THE BEST PATH TO SUCCESS.”

“we talked through a lot of scenarios already,” Sans said. Your gaze shifted to him. “gotta weigh the options - as it is, Paps is one of our best strategists,” he continued. His grin was wide once more, and you caught a strong swing of pride in his tone. An impressed smile slipped onto your own face as you looked back at Papyrus.

“A good dancer and a brilliant mind, too? You’re quite the impressive gentle-monster,” you said, genuine and teasing at once. Papyrus’ cheekbones were a light orange, and he looked down at you with a slight puffing of his chest and a twinkle in his eye.

“I AM THE _GREAT_ PAPYRUS, AFTER ALL,” he replied. You laughed and Sans chuckled - and a pressure in front of you drew your eyes back to Gaster once more.

His unmarked browbone was raised. You cleared your throat, rolling back into a strong stance once more and nodding at him.

“What’s our plan, sir?” You asked. It was… definitely best to return the floor to him. He could take it back with ease, but you decidedly did _not_ want things to get to that point.

He regarded you carefully for a few moments, letting the silence and attention pool. Gracefully, smoothly, and with strange, slipping after-shadows, he lifted one leg and crossed it so his ankle rested on top of the opposite knee.

“We have a number of potential gains through this opportunity,” he remarked. “Being invited to such an environment, at a place of selection and considerable weight…” he trailed his words, and a rolling baritone of static rumbled from him. It brushed across your skin and set your hair on end even as the sound struck hot across your skin. “Well, let’s say that should things go well, there shall be several fortuitous opportunities for our organization.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to trust your voice or words. You settled for a nod instead.

Sans made a low humming noise next to you. He lifted a gloved hand and framed his chin with it, looking towards Gaster. “now we know that we may not get everything we’re looking for, and it’s hard to say what we can expect you to see in there, _dulzura_ ,” he said. His gaze met yours. “ _después de todo_ , it’s not exactly a monster-friendly joint.” He grinned a little wider, and you caught the flash of his sharper canines. “but we have our hunches for what may present itself… and nearly anything you come back with will be more than useful.”

“Agreed,” you said. “About _Il Sangue_ all but running the place, though - what kind of risk are we looking at for me getting recognized?” Your gaze shifted over each of the monsters in the room, purposefully fully extending your question. “I’m not as concerned about getting out of the situation - that will be what it will be - but I’m more worried about what would happen to our efforts if I were… discovered,” you said, glancing to the side with a grimace.

The room was quiet for a moment. The gaze of the brothers to either side slipped to Gaster, though you felt an odd pulse as if they both wanted to say something but refrained.

“The concern of you being moreso recognized as the one they attempted to kidnap… well. We have allotted for that and shall address that potential circumstance momentarily. There will naturally still be some risk as there are limitations to what we can do within a short timeframe - but I also believe that, aside from having a well-laid series of preparations, that _Il Sangue_ is not looking to kidnap you again… not like this, in any case,” Gaster said. He spoke with his strange static-lilt, the roll of an old, old spanish accent you couldn’t quite place rounding his vowels and slipping his words richly even through the eerie effect of whatever magic pulled at him and his voice. You found yourself unable and unwilling to look away, though this time there was no draw of darkness at the edges of your senses. “It is, _naturalmente_ , wishful thinking to presume that nothing will go wrong. Your forethought and consideration is certainly appropriate… and appreciated,” he continued. His single dot of light in his unmarred socket held your focus, flickering downwards, drawing slowly across you in a measured study. He met your eyes again and went on, “Intelligence gathering is crucial. I will not allow for half-baked attempts that will cost us more than we shall gain.”

Your brows drew inward for a moment. The last piece felt oddly… reassuring, rather than threatening. Rolling that piece of information around in your mind, you nodded. Gaster settled his fingertips together once more, arched together in front of his chest, his expression stony despite the bright white of his gaze on you.

“plan or no, you’ll have to think on your feet, doll,” Sans said. “can’t say that you should run at the first sight of trouble-”

“I’m not much of a bird for getting _flighty_ ,” you responded, a wink in your tone. His grin twitched at that, and you heard a soft groan from your other side.

“ _birds of a feather_ in that respect in this business,” he said, one socket closing in a prolonged wink. “but like i was saying… we can’t follow you in there for more reasons than the one, so be ready for that. you ready to go over the setup?”

You couldn’t fight the grin that lit up your face as a hint of adrenaline sparked in your veins. “I was born ready,” you replied. Papyrus laughed at that, and stepped forward.

“EXCELLENT ENTHUSIASM, I APPROVE! I’M CLEARLY A FANTASTIC INFLUENCE,” he said, setting a hand on your shoulder. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes only had your heart beating faster in anticipation.

“Who else would be?” You knew the same sparkle was in your own eye. Setting your hands on your hips, you leaned in conspiratorially. “Now what’s that brilliant plan, Paps?”

* * *

Tucked in the skinny end of the eighth stretch of winding alleyway you’d walked through in the past half hour, you were really starting to miss the coolly reassuring stone passageways leading to _El Fuego Del Alma_.

“There’s something exciting about navigating through the open air of these alleys, knowing what’s to come,” a girl whispered. She was nearly pressed against your back, and her floral perfume creeped sickly sweet over the shoulder of your jacket. It was paired with the acrid smoke of a cheaply rolled cigarette from the man next to her, the clouds hanging heavy around the heads of your small group. It stuck at the hairs of your neck and you had to fight the urge to wave your hand like you were about to smack away a fly.

Two others pressed in front of you, both women. “Much better to be out in the air than trapped in some dusty cave,” one responded with a laugh. The girl next to her rolled her eyes but grinned - that was Ella, the one who had originally asked you to come. The others laughed, and you let a huff of a laugh slip out of your nose even as your core rolled in anger. The two women obscured your view of the door the group had brought you to, and their response further blocked you from even hearing what they were doing.

The door swung open after a moment, a sliver of darkness all the opportunity offered. One of the women in front of you strolled inwards - the one who had spoken just now. Behind her, Ella turned to look at you, her bright face eager and a little nervous.

“Still have your card?” She asked.

You flashed her an easy smile. With a roll of your wrist, you presented the card you had tucked securely inside the sleeve of your jacket. She stifled an awed giggle and nodded before ushering you in.

The difference between the light of the alleyway and the entrance to this room was stark; considering that you’d already barely been able to make out the bricks of the building you had been a little too close to in that alley, you were very nearly impressed with the drop in lighting. You could navigate by the hushed voices of the group moving alongside you, though, and caught the outline of a tall, stocky figure apparently leading you through a turn of hallways.

At last, you stopped at a deceptively simple set of double doors. The line of their wood was worn from what you could make out, and they looked as though they settled heavy on their hinges. The stocky figure at the lead stopped next to another human, this one standing primly in front of the doors. The two in front of you showed the bouncer something tucked in their jackets, and with a nod of approval they stepped to the side and looked at you expectantly. Now at your turn, you extended the card, displaying it with a curated expression of polite ease and eagerness.

A moment passed, and the bouncer nodded. A hand was extended to you expectantly. After a moment of your own, you gently placed the card in the bouncer’s grasp.

The other two were quickly checked, and without further pause the bouncer turned and pushed the doors open, allowing you and the group you stood with to enter.

The sound hit you at nearly the same moment the sparkling lights did.

An arching, stunning ballroom was laid before you, smaller than half the size of _El Fuego Del Alma_ but extravagantly decorated and filled with lively jazz. Clear, crystalline chandeliers hung from the arched ceiling above a wide dance floor, one end towards a bright and broad stage and the other towards a semi-circle bar set against the opposite wall. Candle-lit tables were set in front of you and across the room on the adjacent sides of the dance floor, framing the clear center focuses of the room and twinkling with lights and expensive glasses and drinks alike, the soft lighting glancing over the features of a nearly full house of customers.

A slender arm linked with yours and quickly drug you towards the bar.

“Let’s get you introduced at the bar and in the performer roster,” Ella said.

“And more importantly, let’s get a round of drinks,” the floral girl added. You laughed with the group as they squeezed into the throng surrounding the bar.

“Even as busy as it gets here, it’s always worth it,” the third woman sighed. Her eyes sparkled in the curated lighting as she gazed outwards. Your eyes followed hers then swept casually, curiously back to the bar. The wall was lined with impeccably arranged glass bottles of every shape and size, amber and ochre and crimson and more pooled in each container. Several barhands were quickly darting to start drinks and match the growing demand.

“And bonus - it’s not an absolute zoo,” the man added, putting out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray and raising a hand to a barhand.

“ _Thomas_ ,” the floral girl hissed, lightly smacking him with her hand, her eyes darting to you. You pretended not to have overheard and swallowed the acid rising in your core, opting to lean on the bar. You had caught the eye of the bartender proper and were damned if you were going to slip up at this point.

“She _works_ there-” Ella whispered tightly, though you could hear the attempt at a smile in her voice in case you looked back at them.

“It’s not like she _has_ to, she’s more than good enough to get a gig somewhere not crawling with-”

You decided to cut your focus on them off before you could hear something that would test your control too much.

“So what would you say your best drink is?” You asked the bartender as she stopped in front of you.

She considered you for a moment. Her eyes were a warm brown, light wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, a few loose curls framing her face. She filled out her bartending outfit well, her toned arms well-framed and telling you that she did much of the bar’s heavy lifting herself. She cocked a single brow at you. Her face was serious, practiced, but there was a flicker of a grin before her expression settled again.

“That depends on what you’re looking for, miss,” she replied democratically.

You flashed her a knowing grin. “I’m no rare hand, ma’am. No special lines necessary for me.”

Her eyes stayed on you. You recognized the quick and hard appraisal behind her seasoned expression - any bartender worth their salt had the skill and would use it to better judge and work with their customers, especially for a request like yours.

Finally, she nodded, her mouth quirking at one side. Wordlessly she turned to the counter at the back and selected a few bottles. A barhand interrupted your line of sight, carrying a tray of golden mixed drinks. He passed them out to your group - including you. You looked back at the others, a slightly surprised look on your face.

“What, you didn’t think we’d leave you stone sober for your performance, did you?” Ella said, a laugh in her tone. You shot her a wink back.

“I definitely appreciate that variety of backup,” you replied. “I do have an order going actually, though, with your lovely bartender there,” you continued, nodding towards the woman in question. Her tight curls cascaded down her back, a neat and intriguing line compared to the tight pull at the sides of her head.

Your gaze returned to the group, who had varying degrees of shock on their faces. You thought Ella even looked impressed. You raised a brow in question.

The guy, Thomas, cleared his throat. “That’s… huh. B doesn’t usually make drinks for first-timers,” he said, eyeing you a little more closely than you were fond of. Swallowing the urge to retort, you settled your expression into one of casually pleased delight.

“I’m honored, then,” you said.

“Save that sort of sentiment for when you taste it, love.”

Your gaze quickly shifted back to the bartender - B, apparently - who had her arms crossed and had clearly placed your completed drink on the bartop between the two of you. Her expression was stony, but you caught the slightest uplifting to her brow. You grinned and looked at the drink. The glass was frosted and the rim was lined with a sprinkling of crystals and an elegantly peeled orange rind curled over it, complementing the rich amber gradient of the liquid within.

As much as you missed _Del Alma_ , you had no inclination to deny the mastery that went into the drink in front of you.

“Alright, recommendation time - should I take a sip of the standard drink with this group first and then enjoy, or should I let this be my first taste?” You leaned forward, eyes flicking from the trailing condensation on the glass to the dark eyes of the bartender.

A soft snort left her, a smirk twitching at her lips. “I’m curious which _you_ think you should go with,” she responded.

You leaned back, nodding appreciatively at the challenge. You took a glass in each hand, the eyes of the towering bartendress and the group heavy on you. Before you could lift your choice, a girl dressed in an outfit whose theme matched B’s bustled over.

“Um, excuse me, miss-?” Your eyes met hers. The frantic energy was pouring off of her in waves, even though her appearance was well-groomed and professional. The little ticks of her hands brushing over a clipboard, repeatedly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear… they were easy to catch, at least for you.

You smiled gently, reassuringly.

“What can I do for you?” You asked softly.

She cleared her throat and straightened a little further and glanced to Ella, then back to you. “You’re performing next - we’ve got about 10 minutes until you go on,” she said. “If you could, follow me over to the stage and we’ll make sure you know the setup.”

You nodded, mildly impressed that you were up on the roster already. You let your eyes slip to Ella, who returned you gaze sheepishly.

Impressed, yes. Surprised… not particularly.

“Ah, but first-”

You looked up at B and winked. You lifted the drink she had prepared for you and took a sip of it, savoring the sweet and tangy burn. Your brows popped upwards as the swirl of magic tingled through your nerves. It was weaker than you were used to, but it made a warmth bloom in your chest and you felt a bit of tension ease out of you.

You looked up at B. She watched you, an eyebrow lifted, and the definite tilt of a small smirk at her lips.

You lowered the glass, a serious expression slipping onto your face. “Color me honored, then,” you said simply.

Her brows knit together for a moment - then lifted, and an outright guffaw boomed out from her. She settled her hands on her hips and grinned at you.

“I like this one, Ell,” she said, approval on her features. You laughed as Ella beamed.

Looking back towards the stage coordinator, you smiled and nodded. “Take me away,” you said with a small bow. Your eyes slipped to the group once more and you gave them another easy wink. “I’ll take your drink with me as well, it’ll be a great cool-down,” you said. Ella laughed and the others joined in as you fell easily into step behind the quick-footed coordinator.

In a flurry of activity, you were brought to the side of the stage, introduced to the stagehands who helped with transitions and management, asked what you’d be performing, told that three songs would be perfect, had your hair and makeup touched up - and then, with your two drinks settled on a stool to your side, you were on stage and in front of the mic.

Curious faces stared up at you from across the room. The small band behind you stood at the ready as you gazed out at the room, confidence laying in your bones even if there was a fluttering tightness deep in your core.

You had a purpose being here. Thoughts of your home at _El Fuego Del Alma_ filled your mind in the span of the few short moments you let yourself view your audience. Every face staring up at you was human, and a pang of heartache hit you. It wasn’t right - you missed the beautifully mixed crowds of _Del Alma_ , the warm light of Grillby at the bar, the uproar of a tipsy crowd and the good humor of illicit activity in great company. The tipsiness was certainly here, but there was a low sort of unease that you felt from the room - and the kind of pride that didn’t leave you warm and welcomed, but with a creeping chill and the feeling of calculating eyes on your back.

You hadn’t realized just how accustomed you had gotten to the presence of monsters in your life. Their absence left a deep ache in your core. With a deep breath and the practiced slip of a confident smile on your face for your performance, you let that ache fill with determination and perseverance and kindness and every warm feeling you had felt and still feel as you were welcomed into your family at _Del Alma_ , adding the thrill of danger and the decisively powerful connection that you had somehow forged with the Core, your newest extension of family - Undyne’s cocky bravery, Papyrus’ charming readiness, Sans’ clever jokes and steadfast cunning and subtly staggering strength-

You exhaled gently and smiled. “Hello, ladies and gents. It’s an absolute _honor_ to be here,” you shot a wink in the direction of the bar and heard more than a few intrigued chuckles and murmurs as the band behind you started up the intro to your first song per your earlier request. “I’ll be something of a lead for the next few songs in setting up that jazzy atmosphere we all have a taste for… so lean back and relax or dust off those shoes and dance, grab a drink and tip your servers, and let’s get this party going again.”

Without missing a beat, you slid into your first song with a warm voice and a disarmingly easy smile.

* * *

“It will be at least several more hours before she is ready.”

The dripping pull of Gaster’s presence had alerted Sans of his approach, but it was still close to jarring to hear him just _that_ close.

Sans turned around, leaning against the kitchen counter he had been facing. He held a blood-red drink in one hand and let his usual shit-eating grin settle on his face.

“ _lo sé harto bien_ ,” Sans replied. “i doubt she’ll be outta there before 2. bit of a waiting game till then.”

“And so you drink,” Gaster said dryly. He had his arms comfortably tucked behind his back, his surreally tall stature looming over Sans.

Sans smirked up at Gaster. He took a long, well-savored sip from his glass - it was not a drink he was particularly proud of, even if it tasted fine, but he knew that the thought of mixing ketchup and magical whiskey was abhorrent to Gaster. He enjoyed the look on his boss’ face nearly as much as the rich burn of the alcohol.

“and so i drink,” Sans agreed as he lowered his drink. A moment passed, and then he shrugged and swirled the glass, looking into it. His tolerance to the stuff was higher than it ought to be, and it had been a long time since he’d had too much to be able to work. Gaster knew this, Sans knew it, so not much needed to be said. Still… his thoughts strayed to you. He and Papyrus would leave early to be ready for you just in case, but there were a lot of what-if’s. Many of them they had gone over with you earlier, and you had even brought up a few of your own that he was impressed by your forethought on. You were quick on your feet, you were great as an expected member of a team, you were thorough - and _por las estrellas_ the kind of heart you showed-

“It would be much easier if we could track her, wouldn’t it,” Gaster’s musing interrupted Sans’ train of thought.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes and took another drink instead. “and the stars shine brightest at night,” Sans replied sardonically.

Gaster ignored Sans’ cheek and went on. “She is tied irrevocably to _El Fuego Del Alma_ at this point, and is indebted to us…”

Sans’ spine went rigid as his mind suddenly caught up to Gaster’s meaning. “... boss.”

Gaster continued. “And it’s evident that she is aware of that, yet works well - she’s provided us with some excellent information, interestingly enough. Even now she has delved into the very belly of the lair of those who would clearly do her harm.”

Sans looked up towards Gaster, his soul pulsing distantly in his chest. “boss-” Their eyes met. Gaster’s were narrowed thoughtfully, his mind already at its destination even as his words pulled Sans along to his conclusion.

“She is too deep to remove herself now, for better or for worse. Yet I find her soul powerful, earnest, and her position is incredibly valuable to us for a number of reasons.”

The room fell away around them as Sans and Gaster’s gazes remained locked. Power thrummed through Sans’ bones as surely as it did through Gaster’s form.

“I would like to see her soul, Sans, should she succeed tonight. To confirm her intentions, her nature-”

“-to tie her to us permanently,” Sans finished for him. His words were nearly a growl as his instincts warred. It was far more than just _dangerous_ to be tied to the monster mob - it might as well be a death sentence. If not soon, then certainly sooner than later- their lives were a dance with death and dust, running from the human law and ill intent to bring a crucial supply of magical food and drink to their community, alongside the thrill of risk and joy and excitement in the shadows of a world that doubted their worth as an entire species.

Even still, you were already tied to the monster community, and by your own words it was willingly done and far preferred. The fierceness by which he knew you’d protect your family at _Del Alma_ was a fluid jive with death as it was, and what he wouldn’t give to be able to better protect your fierce and kind soul, to be able to catch on quicker when danger was in front of you, to have you know that he and the Core would have your back as well as you’d be expected to have theirs-

“The bond of family won’t be broken,” Gaster replied, his voice a soft rumble. “If she’s really as good in intent as we believe we’ve seen, then this will only benefit both sides.” He eyed Sans knowingly. “And I believe you’ve already reached that conclusion, as well.”

Sans grimaced.

“... it has to be her choice, at least upfront,” he finally ground out.

He wanted to protect you, but he’d be damned to hell and back again if you felt you were forced into this. There wasn’t much choice in terms of your involvement now - no, you had probably sealed your fate there when you first wandered into the monster district, with overarching human-monster relations being what they were - but this was a different level of involvement.

No, seeing your soul, interacting with it in the way they would - that would forge a bond that wouldn’t be broken by anything but your final breath itself.

The thought sent a grim chill down Sans vertebrae.

The mark on your soul would be permanent, but it may just be worth the potential cost. It wasn’t a common one, as there were only a few type of bonds souls could make, and all of them were permanent and regarded with the weight of life itself. In the Core, only the inner circle shared that kind of bond, and if you agreed that would cement your role and relationship with them… and provide you with a nearly unmatched level of security for the power of the group you’d be connected to.

Sans realized suddenly that he was genuinely hoping you would accept.

The feeling sent the breath he didn’t need rushing out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... don't mix whiskey and ketchup, friends. Seriously. It will be a Very Bad Time(tm).
> 
> In any case - *jazz fingers* I'm back again! As of yesterday I'm all moved into my new apartment... even if I'm still only partially unpacked. I caught a cold that hit me at the beginning of this past weekend and fun fact, moving up three flights of stairs by yourself while sick is not precisely good for your health. Had to stay home from work today anyways so I was able to wrap up this chapter and devote enough attention to actually edit it and get it posted at last. <3 With the move a lot of the messy junk in my life has settled (as much as it can, anyways) so I'm finally going to be able to focus more frequently on writing and I am so ready for it.
> 
> Now... what in the world could you and the Core have planned... hmmm. 
> 
> I hope that the bit of Sans PoV was alright again! _And look at that tag update, that's right, we've got soul magic in this story after all._ We'll get to learn more about what that involves soon... I hope you all are interested. Relating to that... I wonder who all is in the inner circle of the Core~?
> 
> I hope you all are having lovely weeks, and look forward to hearing any reactions/thoughts you may have & to bring you more of this story as always! <3 Come visit me and my undertale-related-shenanigans (now with more regularly-posted art) over at nighttimeskels.tumblr.com if you're interested.


	13. Not Your Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Great drinks, great atmosphere, the best company in town…” the way the man behind you said the final piece dripped down your spine. The heat coming off his hands so close to your skin raised goosebumps. “What’s not to love?”_

A roar of applause accompanied your flourish of a bow.

You swept upwards with a bright, sultry smile for your wholly-human audience. Leave them wanting more, don’t over-expose them quite yet, you knew… so with a brief blow of a kiss, you picked up your two drinks and strode backstage with a swing to your hips.

The warmth blooming on your face was a regular one, both the swirl of alcohol in your gut and the heady high of a performance gone well. You ducked between two closer stage curtains to catch your breath.

You also promptly hiked up your dress.

Cradling your drinks deftly in one hand, your other slipped free a small flask from a garter belt hidden in by the short folds of your dress. You tipped the remainder of your drink crafted by B herself into the flask and securely tightened the screw. A short movement and flick of a finger had it closed and tucked back in place, and a shift of your thighs revealed a second one, smaller and circular and flat in shape. You began to tip the other drink into it, careful to not lose a single drop in a feat of steady-handedness that even you were impressed by. Careful breathing exercises over the years had you calming the desire to breathe quick after your performance and with the slight of hand you were working.

The quiet but sure approach of quick footsteps had your fingers flying far faster than they should be able to to seal off the second flask and right the drink.

You were stepping away from the curtains with the drink raised to your lips when the approaching figure crashed into you.

You spluttered at the rush of drink into your mouth, knocked off balance and your feet catching in the curtain. Your eyes clenched shut in anticipation of hitting the stage, but a hand caught at your arm and wrenched you back upright.

Unable to help the noise, you yelped, nearly sloshing your drink all over yourself. A deft twist of your wrist and years of practice in righting yourself in heels saved you from the messy fate at the last moment.

The other person was somewhat less prepared. Still, perhaps it spoke to a different skill how quickly he recovered from getting half-slapped by one of your hands as the other slightly over-corrected for your own sake and sent several ounces of mystery alcohol up his nose.

“Stars above, I am so, so sorry-” you began, but with pained concentration and several harsh yet gentlemanly snorts he waved you off.

“... No, miss, it was my fault,” he managed, only a fraction more nasally than you would imagine his voice normally was. “I should have paid closer attention to the curtains, I know how easy it is to get tangled, and it’s rather dark back here as well.”

You waved your free hand in a fluttering motion, pulling your other hand and its clutched drink away from the man. “No, really, I’ve spent my fair share of time sidestage, I know better than to linger between the curtains, even if it is to appreciate a fine drink!”

Your earnest yet warm words pulled a small smile out of the otherwise professionally fretful man. His well-tailored suit had thankfully largely escaped damage, though the collar was concerningly damp and his face was a little red on the one side.

“You are too kind, miss,” he said with a small, polite smile. “Most people who are at the point of spilling drinks are less courteous after doing so.”

His face was nearly serious, a professional distance to his mannerism that you could catch with a practiced eye. Still, there was a hint of amusement in his tone that you could work with. “Well I can’t say I’m quite there, but I do certainly feel better knowing I’ve got a kindred spirit in that sort of fun customer experience,” you replied with a grin.

That did it. “It’s certainly not uncommon in our line of work, is it?” He replied with a suppressed chuckle. “Oh, but I came for something other than scaring the daylights out of you!” He exclaimed, pressing his fingers briefly to his cheek.

You laughed gently, sharing the warmth. “Not a worry at all, honestly. What can I do for you?”

He swept his arm to the side, gesturing towards the short path to the main room. “Your lovely presence has been requested.”

Practice and practice alone kept your expression warm and lightly curious. “And I take it I’m being requested by someone of quite a sway themselves?”

A small twinkle in the eye of the man in front of you betrayed your success in making a connection with him. “Indeed,” he replied simply.

You laughed and nodded once. “Very well then, my good sir. Lead the way.”

It was intriguing to watch the easier posture of the man slip firm once more as he stepped up into a section of tables populated with humans of a different thread of cloth. Jewelry dripped off of the women and heady cigars passed with a collected ease between calloused hands. You were led to the table in the back. A line of tense care edged along your spine, your eyes bright and intent with a performer’s smile on your lips. You knew better than to look too at ease in the company you had been invited towards.

A boisterous cheer came from the table you were stopped in front of, a small group of confident men and women looking pleased at your appearance. Before you could react, the closest of the men shot to his feet with his arms spread and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“There’s the _bella cantante_ , just who we were so ready to see!” He said as he rose once more, his bright hazel eyes trained on you and a wide, jovial grin gracing his face. His hair was speckled with steely greys amongst sun-kissed blondes, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth shared a lifetime of enough laughter for a man in his middle years. He clasped your hand in both of his.

“Now, now, ‘Ero, let’s not overwhelm her, she must be tired after all the energy she put into her performance,” said another man at the table. He similarly smiled at you, slightly older in looks and warmer in skin tone, but his position across the table prevented any ease of reaching for your other hand. He shot you a wink. You returned the smiles to both of the men, a hint of a flush at your cheeks for the praise, an appropriately bashful yet easy expression settling on your face.

“You are all too kind,” you replied, waving your free hand. Your gaze slipped between the two men and over the other three at the table - another man, younger and husky, and two women, bright and coifed and self-assured with a keen look in their warm gazes. “It’s all too easy to pour myself into the music for such a great audience.”

You ignored the crawling of your skin where the man still held your hand and the distaste pulsing dark in your chest.

“Please join us for a moment,” the man holding your hand - ‘Ero? - said. He immediately pulled out the chair he had sat in. Without waiting for a reply or giving you any alternatives, he ushered you into it and gave raised two fingers to the man who had brought you here with a pointed look. The man nodded and was halfway through the section within the span of a few seconds.

You felt the man’s hands rest on the back of the chair you had found yourself in. “Truly, your performance was utterly stunning,” he began once again, his tone excited. “Easily, easily the gem of the night, and that includes out of those to come.”

“He’s absolutely right,” one of the women agreed, nodding quickly. “The rich and warm tones, the dynamics… truly a rousing set of songs, and you only performed the handful.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you replied. “I’m glad that my craft has been well received,” you added with a wink to the woman. Her smile brightened, and you appreciated the flush of her cheeks and the flutter of her hand as she moved to cradle the flute of alcohol in front of her.

“Surely we can convince you to return here to _Notte Oscura_ soon,” the older man cut in, a calculating glint in his eye complementing his smirk.

A fresh glass of alcohol was smoothly set in front of you. It neither sparkled nor fizzed, even if there was a carefully crafted gradient of alcohols to the drink. The buzz of magic in the alcohol was an odd one to the fingertips you ghosted over the condensation already forming against the chilled glass. Your eyes closed briefly in a soft laugh as you warded off your focus on the distant buzz, unable to give it the concentration and consideration you wanted to.

“I must admit I have a busy schedule,” you said with a sigh, your fingertips slipping to the rim of the glass as you shot a grateful smile to the man who was stepping away from grabbing your empty glass and handing off another drink to the man behind you, but he accepted your look with a crinkle to the corner of his own eyes. “But I’d of course be an outright dishonest fool to say that the offer isn’t more than tempting.”

A rough laugh behind you almost had you twisting to look at the man whose hands still rested on your chair. “Glad to hear that, at least,” he said.

You didn’t miss the flicker of a few pairs of eyes towards your glass. You cradled it carefully, slowly, as if you were merely thinking over your words. “And I’d certainly be remiss to not take the chance to enjoy the atmosphere again…”

You pressed the rim of your glass to your lips as you regarded the air above their heads vaguely in thought. The liquid slipped over your tongue smoothly, the burn of the drink honeylike and excitable. A pleased giggle escaped you as you lowered the glass. The faces of those at the table grew more pleased.

“You’ve certainly turned more than enough heads even for such a short performance,” the older man cut in. He grinned at you, his index finger and thumb stroking his chin. “And of course, for a repeat performance we wouldn’t leave you emptyhanded,” he shot you a wink.

You let a sly smile spread on your face and tossed a wink back. “Well, that certainly does sweeten the scenario,” you hedged amiably.

“Great drinks, great atmosphere, the best company in town…” the way the man behind you said the final piece dripped down your spine. The heat coming off his hands so close to your skin raised goosebumps. “What’s not to love?”

You took another sip of your drink. Very carefully, you drank enough to be noticed in it’s level drop before lowering it again.

The band on stage started kicking up a new song, one that was a classic, and you heard a cheer rise from the dance floor. A quick glance over had you noticed a definite increase in the amount of lazily drifting smoke in the room. You lifted your drink in cheers to the table. “I do believe you have me thinking quite hard about a return on the horizon,” you said.

A wider grin split across the face of the older man. “I do hope those thoughts end well,” he said.

You winked at him and slipped out of your seat easily, taking your new drink and your old with you with a cheeky grin. “I believe you can hedge your bets on that, sir,” you replied. Your eyes slipped to each of the faces at the table. “Thank you so kindly for your words and your excellent taste,” you said, raising your new drink to them once more. “I do believe I promised a few dances earlier, and I am a woman of my word… but I look forward to seeing you all again quite soon.”

With a few nods and smiles, and with the man now at your side brushing one last kiss to your knuckles, you swept back towards the main floor.

But first a detour to the ladies room, of course.

It was blessedly unoccupied, and you made quick work of pouring all but a final sip of your second drink into the half-full flask. After a secure pat of your garter belts and a thoughtful flush of the toilet, your fingers dipped into the low line of your dress and pulled out a thin glass container, curved and misleadingly dainty in appearance. It didn’t hold much, but that was for the best - you carefully tipped at least 3 long sips’ worth of your third drink from your kind hosts into the little container, clasped it shut, and replaced it.

You turned the faucet on. A quick hip check in the mirror for any drooping garter lines or mussed appearances was the only remaining time you took before you turned it right back off, took a breath, and swept out of the bathroom with glasses in hand. You tipped back your second drink and shot a wink to someone’s stray eyes. They raised their drink cheerfully in return.

A minute of weaving and flirty thank-you’s to new fans and you slid the empty second glass over to a barhand across the counter. He caught it easily and you raised your remaining drink in cheers to him. B was busy making a drink a little ways down, so you decided to hold off on further prying there for now.

Your eyes turned to the bustling dance floor.

You were a performer, a practiced hand at this sort of establishmnet, so you let a pleased smirk slip over your face as you swirled your drink around and took a moment to gather yourself. Your gaze ghosted over couples and single folk alike, kicking up their heels and laughing and twirling about the floor. Smoke drifted from a few cigars and cigarettes, but particularly from some intriguingly well-rolled joints. Several of the men in the crowd had a certain cut to their suit and a cocky attitude to match. Many already danced with a woman, though a number were cutting it in small groups or were lounging carelessly and jovially at tables on the edge of the floor. A handful caught your eye and you weighed your options as you pressed the rim of your drink to your lips. You didn’t take a sip.

You couldn’t well walk out of there with the drink, and to leave something of the obvious caliber this particular drink was at particularly when given to you by a group like the one’s you had just visited… well, that would be more than a mistake.

Still, the limits of the candy you had been given earlier were already being pushed.

You pushed away from the bar with purpose and an air of casual tipsy enjoyment as the memory played briefly in your mind.

_“there’s not much we can do to protect against the effects of whatever they have brewed in there,” Sans had said. Your eyes met his, the soft drumming of his fingers on the low table in front of him a pleasant background noise as Papyrus and Gaster’s focus trained on him as well. “however, we do have this.”_

_His hand lifted from the table and slipped into his jacket, into a hidden pocket that lined the breast. A short movement revealed a small wrapped ball, held easily between his index and middle fingers. He displayed it to you with a smirk pulling at his mouth._

_You raised a brow. “... Monster candy?” You asked, a grin perking at your own lips._

_He nodded. Papyrus chuckled next to him. “EVEN MORE IMPROVED AS OF LATE,” he chipped in vaguely with the usual bright twinkle to his eyes._

_You were unsurprised, but impressed. “Thought the trade on these had all but stopped after that raid a couple years back,” you said, leaning closer with interest._

_Sans tossed the candy in the air with cocky nonchalance and caught it just as easily. “opportunity arose for a bit of beneficial work,” he replied with a wink._

_You glanced to Gaster, watching as always. His dark mouth had drug into a bit of a smirk. His eyes met yours with a flash from behind his steepled fingers._

_“Research into market needs and desired effects can be a strong suit of our organization,” he said. You huffed a laugh and decided it best to not press further at the dark edges of his gaze._

_“How much room does it give me to work with?” You asked, a spark in your eye._

The fact that the candy was part of a test batch on preventative efforts was an exercise in the trust you had to establish with them, you figured. The one-drink hedging wasn’t much, but it was what you were given, and far better than nothing. Your gait led you easily towards one of the men standing at the edge of the floor, talking with a group of friends. Right on time, the song switched, and a few excitable girls popped up after having clearly been gathering their courage and pulled his friends towards the floor. You saw the flash of a joint being passed between the friends as they glanced back. He waved them off with a laugh and took a heady swig of what you could tell was _not_ his first drink of the night.

Between what you had of the three drinks you had received, you knew you were at that one drink limit. In your hand was well over two-thirds of a drink you could not leave, a drink you had been given by a particularly weighted group after your performance, a drink that you had to finish.

You had already done the math. It was time to put it to work.

You caught his eye as you swayed to an easy stop next to him. “I can’t believe they were snatched up before you,” you said with a teasing smile and a gesture towards the floor and his friends’ disappearing backs.

He looked positively _ecstatic_ at your arrival. His gaze turned to ill-concealed hunger as he faced towards you, leaning a little headily on the table behind him. “Well, some guys get all the luck,” he said, his tone too obvious. You bit back a laugh and took in his appearance a little more carefully - broad-shouldered, on the edge of drunk, had a bit of a babied roundness to his jaw, and showed clear effort to look effortless.

Perfect.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to show me a little of that luck?” You said, hips towards him, cocking your head to one side. Your voice edged on a purr.

Well, if he was ecstatic before… “For a gorgeous gal like you with a voice like what you gave us, _I’m_ the one getting lucky here,” he said with a wolfish grin. He tossed back the rest of his drink, a little dribbling down his chin. He wiped it up quickly as he put the empty glass on the table.

You giggled instead of rolling your eyes and took the arm he offered you. Your free hand still held your drink, and you balanced it with a practiced hand as he nearly dragged you onto the floor.

Thankfully, the drink in your hand forced him to take a one-handed, less-intimate style to leading you, and you toed down your skills to tipsy performer to keep only just slightly ahead of his own efforts. He could move well enough, you noticed, despite his inebriation - you were almost impressed as you laughed along to a comment you could barely hear from him.

He twirled you around, his arm nearly hitting your head. You cut around him with a grin, and offered up a wink to his slip into a sheepish grin. The ego returned with force, and several songs slipped by before you deemed it a good chance to tug him off the floor.

Laughter bubbled out of you as you fanned your hand towards you and you made to lift your drink. “I’m impressed, you’ve got such quick feet for it being so late into the night!” You said breathily, looking up at him with a slight sway.

He grinned sloppily, pocketing one hand and using the other to push his mussed hair out of his face. Sweat beaded at his brow. “Well, I’ll tell ya this, I’m used to pulling late nights,” he said, leaning closer to you.

“Oh my, that sounds positively exhausting,” you said, pressing a hand to your lips and dipping your brows in worry.

His body shifted closer. “It’s worth it, though, I’ve got some major perks for my line of work,” he said, lowering his eyelids. “Comes with the dangerous territory.”

Your lips parted slightly and a soft inhale slipped through them. His eyes were on them as you replied, “Dangerous…? What is it you do…?”

You leaned forward, your arm brushing against his own, your hair slipping forward and framing your face coyly.

He casually draped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned a little closer still, encouraging him to lean further in, to feel ready to confide. “Life or death, if you catch my drift…” he said, then glanced to the each side, then back to you, looking arrogant as he stared down at you. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard of _Il Sangue_ ,” he said, pressing you close to him.

Your breath hitched, and it worked well for you. His smile grew, and the heavy scent of alcohol drifted from his open mouth. He had been drinking even more than you had hoped.

“You mean, you’re a part of…?” You put a bit of lured wonder into your voice as you tilted your face at him.

He chuckled, though the sound was affected and messy. “Ya got that right, little bird.” His face loomed close to yours, his eyes wandering all over your skin.

Your stomach rolled at the use of that style of nickname for you. Professionalism, professionalism. You shot him a starry-eyed, coy look and took a long sip of your drink. He watched your movement with hungry eyes.

“It must take a lot of skill to be a member,” you said, teasing your lip between your teeth. “I can barely imagine the tight spots you get into…”

“It’s certainly risky, but nothing I can’t handle,” he said with a egotistical shrug. “Really makes y’ appreciate the little pleasures in life more, and how t’ better live on the edge,” he said, pulling you closer still, his hand now on your hip. You gasped lightly and looking at him under your eyelashes as if you were contemplating something.

A few moments passed of him eyeing you greedily, and then you tossed back the rest of your drink and smiled slyly at him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to get out of here, hmm?”

“I know a quick back way out,” he answered quickly with a sleazy grin. You placed your glass on the table as he tucked your hand in his arm and pulled you towards a back hall near the bathrooms, stumbling slightly at the change in lighting as you clung closer and giggled, letting your own gait become a little uneasy. He glanced down at you, his gaze a hazy leer. “But, y’know, keep hush-hush about it,” he added.

You pressed a finger to your lips and giggled, appeasing him as he pulled you along and out another door.

You kept a close count of the turns and doors you took.

Finally, he pushed out of one and you found yourself in another alley, the dim light of a streetlamp visible towards the main road. You tugged him now, winking up at his incredulous smile. “I’ve got just the place,” you said slyly.

“I think I’m the luckiest guy from in there t’night,” he slurred, stumbling into a stagger of a walk as he tucked you closer to him.

“What can I say, you honestly had just the kind of look I couldn’t resist choosing,” you replied.

He straightened a little at that for a moment, trying to walk a little more proudly before the alcohol pulled him a little off center again. You giggled again as you pulled him around the next street corner, matchingly unsure on your feet as you went down a few more blocks.

“Y’ oughta come back again,” he said after managing to gather his thoughts, leaning towards you heavily. “That kin’na- that kinda voice? That’s somethin’ that shouldn’t be wasted anywhere else.”

You pressed back into him as you crossed a street. “What do you mean by that?” you tilted your head at him with a hazy smile.

He waved his free hand, a sure and conceited look on his face. “Y’know- y’know, I mean, _Notte Oscura_ ’s the only joint in town that keeps its, its clients… _pure_ ,” he said, a mix of disgust and pride in his voice.

You stumbled slightly, dragging him with a giggle and making him laugh as you moved down another street. “You mean… you mean like, like that there’s only humans there?”

He nodded, looking at you. “I knew y’ understood,” he slurred, getting close again. “Those fuckin’, those fuckin’ _demons_ … eh, they’ll get theirs’ soon enough,” he said waving his other hand. He glanced around the street for a moment. “So where’s your place, doll?”

You lift a hand to gesture. “Oh, it’s just down the next block, actually-”

A car rolled up to the sidewalk you were teetering dangerously at the edge of. You startled, delayed, as the car window rolled down.

The next streetlight was a little ways down, so the shadows were heavy in the car, and even the man who had you tucked close to him was hard to see.

“Don’t mean to bother ya’, folks, but is there any chance you know the way down to Eleanor Street from here?”

The low voice was easy and unassuming, a bland non-accent to it. You clenched the arm of the man at your side. He laughed, glancing at you and then the figure in the car.

“Ain’t it a li’l late to be gettin’ lost there?” He said, leaning closer to the car.

A deep chuckle rolled out of the window. “That’s what I said, pal. But sometimes your buddy passes out with a little too much liquor and y’ gotta get him back home somehow,” the figure replied, leaning an elbow on the car door, gesturing with his hand in an exasperated and amused fashion.

You let your arm slip free from your company as he leaned forward and placed a hand on the rim of the car roof, his voice smug. He spoke in an absolutely failed whisper. “Yeah, yeah, but c’mon, don’t y’ see when a guy’s got a pretty piece of tail, can’t have ya scarin’ her off _too_ bad-”

The hand of the figure in the car settled as the figure leaned forward, revealing the edge of a dark hat.

The leather-gloved hand pulled at the charcoal brim.

“ _mis disculpas_ , then. i think i’ve got just the thing for your trouble…”

Before the man still leaning against the car could react to the sudden drop in octave, tone, and the roll of his accent, the back door popped open, forcing him to stumble backwards, nearly crashing into you-

And then a hand darted forward and grasped at his arm, and he was dragged into the backseat with a flicker of an orange glow providing the only light. The man yelled and the car rocked as the sound cut off suddenly, a dull noise echoing out of the back seat as the door snapped shut.

You hear a pleased noise of confirmation, muffled through the car.

The front door popped open, and the gloved hand reached out towards you. The shift in lighting caught a sharp, crooked grin cast on a bone jaw. You grinned as you took the offered hand.

For the first time that night, your giddy giggle was genuine as you were quickly tugged into the car.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said a little breathlessly as the door snapped closed and the window rolled up. The car quickly moved forward, and you caught yourself against the sturdy chest of the monster whose lap you found yourself in.

You looked up to grin at Sans. He winked at you as he held you closer to him as the car picked up casual speed.

“ _qué coincidencia_ ,” he chuckled. His eyes ghosted over you, the hand not tucked behind your back drifting up your arm. “any trouble?” he said, slipping serious for a moment.

A fluttery feeling in your stomach pulled a blush to your cheeks, and you shook your head before winking at him. “I do believe I was the main trouble that occurred there tonight,” you said slyly.

His low, rough chuckle only increased the fluttery feeling, and you looped a steadying arm around his shoulders, your other hand resting still on his chest. He eyed your face, his gaze drifting over your flushed cheeks. You hoped it was dark enough in the car, even with the gentle and quick roll of streetlights illuminating the car periodically through the windshield.

Your thoughts flashed for a moment, still trying to work quick despite your current location on Sans’ lap. Your gaze slipped to the backseat, and you bit back a laugh.

“How are you doing, Papyrus?” You said, your voice a little unsteady.

“I AM QUITE EXCELLENT, THANK YOU, CANARY!” he replied jovially. It was a fantastic juxtaposition to the knocked out mobster sprawled over his lap in a cramped fashion.

You looked back to Sans, trying to not bite your lip. He grinned at you and shrugged.

“we wanted to take one of the less noticeable cars… so it’s a bit smaller.”

You shook your head, you laughter shaking quietly out of you in the adrenaline and comedy of it all.

Your gaze briefly brushed to the hooded figure driving next to you and Sans. You didn’t know them well - yet - but still you offered, “Thanks for driving, River,” warmly.

A strange ghost of laughter and a sing-songy “Tra la la,” was your only reply.

You were distracted regardless as you felt leather at your jawline. Sans’ finger tilted your focus back to him and he regarded you closely again. Your hand reflexively held onto the lapel of his jacket a little tighter, your breathing hitching as you looked back at him. It would have been too hard to look away, even if you wanted to.

A jolt as the car went through a rough patch of street pressed you closer to Sans, and something cool at your breast nearly pulled a squeak out of you. Realization burned crucial through you and you looked up at Sans again.

“Sans,” you said a little more urgently, barely keeping your murmur of his name from being a little _too_ rough. You swore you felt his chest almost rumble beneath you, and you knew you were feeling his hands tighten their hold of you just slightly, but you couldn’t let yourself get distracted from it. “I had more than one drink.”

His reaction was immediate. He pulled one hand away from you and quickly dug into his jacket pocket. He dug out a single wrapped candy, pinching at the edges of one twist-wrapped end with his thumb and index finger. You were about to take it from him to unwrap it, but he moved too quickly. His mouth parted, and the sharp edges of his canines caught the light of a passing streetlight as he bit the other end of the candy wrapper and tugged, unwrapping it rapidly in a rustling crinkle. You watched with the heat building in you as his fingers deftly plucked the candy from the wrapper he held between his teeth and held it up to your mouth.

A moment passed as his gaze bore down on yours, a pounding in your chest leaving you nearly motionless for a moment.

Gently, his eyes lidding slightly, he pressed the candy to your lips.

Without breaking your gaze away from his, you opened your mouth, your tongue slipping out to pull the candy in.

His fingers drifted to your chin as you ate the candy. The magic flared and melted sweetly in your mouth, and as it did so you realized a slight heady haze lifted from your mind that had begun to set in.

You swallowed.

“Just in time, I think,” you said softly. You still hadn’t looked away from him. “Thanks, Sans.”

His grin pulled, his canines still sharply visible. “ _con mucho gusto_ , canary,” he replied.

His fingers lingered at your jawline, and you would have sworn you felt a warm buzz of magic beneath the soft leather of his glove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, pro tip for any of you budding mobsters out there, don't get drunk and cocky and make assumptions about pretty ladies who very well could kick your butt into next week.
> 
> ... I wonder how well this plan will go, though...?
> 
> Also, I swear there's a reason for named vs not named humans so far. Surely you don't think this is the last we'll see of _Notte Oscura_ , after all.
> 
>  
> 
> I'll admit, I got stuck on this chapter - I warred a lot with what to include or allude to, as I can't go giving you guys _all_ the secrets and details yet. But here we are, and I think you may like what's to come next... so please, leave a comment/kudos if you can! Even the smallest ones are so, so wonderful, and stars above do they keep me determined and inspired.  <3 Thank you everyone who comments, whether once or (most, most beautifully) repeatedly - you all brighten up my days and I honestly wouldn't have had the guts to keep going with this story if not for you. Your ongoing support gives me all the determination I never thought I could have. <3
> 
> In other news, I've got a few surprises coming your way! The first is a playlist of some of my favorite jazz & swing songs that I frequently listen to while writing SS - including those that have been sung by our Canary so far. [You can find it over here on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLx_UWjAIeuewOWVFMFUhzCyqkyKSQTDzW) \- I, uh, tried to make it work on 8tracks but it was being a butt, so YouTube will have to do. Disclaimer that it's definitely meant to be a _music_ playlist, not an "entertaining music _video_ " playlist, so it's probably just something you'll want to put on in another tab and go about your business if you're interested, haha. And this is only _some_ of the songs I really like, I may add more as time goes on.
> 
> That wraps it up for now! More surprises to come soon because you guys are lovely and I appreciate you all so much. <3


	14. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He chuckled. “i’ve always liked your style, canary.” He dipped his face alongside yours once more. The fluttering in in your chest wholeheartedly approved. “aun así - esperemos que no muy cansada…”_
> 
> _His words ran a heated jolt up your spine and before you could respond, light hit your eyes. Sans was nowhere in sight and with him had gone your blindfold, but you felt the fading tingling chill at your shoulders that let you know that he had taken one hell of a shortcut back to Papyrus._
> 
> _Your breath left you all at once as you pressed a hand to your sternum. “... Cheater,” you grumbled, even as your lips tugged upwards._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey cuties - i've got my usual notes at the bottom, but i wanted to pop up here to make sure to point out the updated tags! there's what's considered casual drug use in this chapter, so heads up if you need it. <3 
> 
> marijuana is now legal in a number of places, so i'll just leave it at: make good choices & know your limits! also, education is power, so read up on whatever research you need to. 
> 
> //random PSA over. hope you all like the new chapter. :)

“You know, Papyrus, I think your brother enjoys this sort of thing too much.”

The gloved hands at the back of your head nearly slipped as they tied the knot. Your wry expression flashed into a victoriously mischievous grin as Papyrus’ laughter bounced to the front seat.

“IT’S CERTAINLY A LITTLE SUSPICIOUS HOW LONG HE’S TAKING TO SECURE THAT KNOT,” Papyrus replied.

The tilt of victory in your lips faded as it was overridden by the heat in your cheeks. Judging from the softest intakes of breath you could feel through your hand on Sans’ chest, you had the definite impression his own face had turned blue. If only you could see it…

Curse this blindfold. 

You bit at your lip and ducked your head slightly, unsure of where to turn without your sight. 

“... what can i say, Paps, i’m a little  _ tied up _ and it’s slowing me down.”

If it didn’t feel like such a challenge between the two of you with the heat building in you, you almost would’ve applauded Sans as Papyrus groaned in the back seat.

“SANS, YOU’RE NOT EVEN THE ONE TIED UP! THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE CONTEXTUAL SENSE!”

“oh, i’m  _ knot _ ?” Another groan from the back seat, and you couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your lips. Your other arm was still looped around Sans’ shoulders to hold you steady as River drove along what you could tell was a convoluted route. “ _ entonces, dime… _ how come i’m  _ tangled  _ with you?”

The last of his words were spoken at your cheek as you found yourself tugged closer to him, his hand pulling at yours to tuck you closer as his other arm circled your waist. Your eyes went wide behind the blindfold and you weren’t sure if your cheeks could physically be further flushed. You opened your mouth on instinct, prepared to fire back, but you found yourself unable to pull words together. 

His chuckle and the buzz of magic from his own blush that tickled your cheek had you feeling like you were in very, very wonderfully dangerous territory.

With a careful inhale, you turned your face slightly, your cheek brushing against Sans’. “I feel like you’re making a bit of a stretch there again, Sans…” You bit your lip, a smirk and heated flare in your chest pulling your next words out in a low tone that you knew would only carry to him. “Or are you just too distracted with thinking about me all tied up?”

_ Stars _ , you hadn’t fully placed just how enticingly large his hands were until then as they suddenly twitched, the strength and sturdiness behind them distracting you for a moment as he inhaled sharply. Your breath left you in a short, breathy huff against his jawline. Strangely conveniently the car hit some sort of rough patch in the road and before you could lose your balance you found Sans pressing you flush against him, a buzz and a low, low vibration suddenly tingling against the hand you still had on his chest. The feeling spread then to your own chest, your arm, everything you had now pressed against him, your face nearly tucked against his collarbone, terribly aware of his subtle scent of pine and well-aged books and whiskey and something more-

“DON’T TELL ME YOU TWO ARE TRYING TO GET  _ KNOTTY _ UP THERE.”

Papyrus’ snickering made you huff out your own startled laugh that bubbled into something bright and unstoppable, and you pushed slightly at Sans’ chest, quickly, trying to recover your little bit of space to reply and wave it off to Papyrus whenever you could bite back on your laughter.

Sans’ arm tightened around your waist and kept you from moving.

Your breath hitched and nearly cut off your laughter as Papyrus’ laughed triumphantly in the back seat. Sans was laughing too, the sound low and nearly as surprised as yours, yet his arm only pulled you closer as his other lifted to press at your upper back as his hand settled on your shoulder, brushing towards the crook of your neck.

His baritone laughter rolled over your skin in heated huffs of amusement, rumbling through his chest and straight through you.

By the stars, how could such a simple thing as that  _ voice _ and him holding you in that gentle but sure way strike that kind of heat through you-

“don’t worry, Paps. i’m just making sure our canary doesn’t  _ fly away _ if we hit any more bumps.”

His thumb slipped along the skin at your neck, and your giggling was officially cut off with a trail of goosebumps.

Papyrus chuckled. You decided you were quite okay for a  _ number _ of reasons with being unable to see his face at the moment. “I’VE ALWAYS FOUND RIVER TO BE AN EXCELLENT DRIVER, THOUGH I SUPPOSE THESE THINGS DO HAPPEN…  _ SI TU LO DICES _ ,  _ HERMANO _ .”

Sans chuckled again, and you found yourself pressing closer to him, one arm still looped around his shoulders in what was now a tight embrace. You didn’t know which one of you had pulled you even closer this time, because what in the heavens was a clear train of thought anymore, oh hell you could almost make out a low trace of his cologne, something you hadn’t been able to get a clear focus on before- “we work in a dangerous business, no need to take risks where they aren’t necessary…” his hand shifted just slightly, the buzz of energy underneath his warm, soft leather gloves making you tense and melt all at once, and he tilted his face so only you would hear, “or where they get in the way of things like this.” and then his thumb slipped against the nape of your neck, brushing aside a few stray hairs in the softest of caresses as his fingers at your hip trailed in a slow, teasing trail.

A nearly silent, sharp gasp pulled through your lips and without any semblance of clear thought, your breath left you with the softest of stuttering sounds-

“ _ A-ah- _ ”

His movements froze.

Your eyes shot wide open.

… You hadn’t even noticed them close.

Your chest felt absolutely on  _ fire _ with a vibrating heat and horror and what you were more and more aware of as an utter  _ need _ , no extra thanks to the sturdy frame of his lap underneath you and his arms around you, pressing you close and the matching heat you felt radiating from him was absolutely not helping the want stirring low in you-

“Tra la la, make sure the darkness stays until the heart is secure.”

River’s melodic voice froze the beginnings of a twitch in Sans’ fingers. You stayed completely still, but for the slow shifting of your chest with your breath. The moment hung quiet, the air still as the car’s engine purred nearly unnoticeable in its parked position.

You pulled back, Sans’ fingers drifting against your skin and pulling a shiver that you swore Sans shared. “Well then, looks like it’s showtime with part two, no?”

Papyrus eager nod and grin was nearly audible, and nearly managed to pull your own grin back to your face. Nearly. The heavy blush and automatic tilt of your head towards where you could feel Sans’ face lingering was getting in the way.

You heard the back door pop open and Papyrus unfolded himself out with a grace you could only imagine behind your blindfold as he apparently pulled the still-unconscious mobster out quite unceremoniously. “YES, I’M QUITE CERTAIN A PARTICULAR SOMEBODY WILL BE  _ EUFORICO _ WHEN HE SEES THIS SORT OF SUCCESS IN OUR PLANS,” Papyrus said proudly.

Sans was quiet and still for a moment longer, then a low groan pulled out of him. “ _ si, si, no me entretengo él más… _ ” His voice was an impossibly low grumble. The frustration in his voice made you bite your lip as a grin pulled at it, even as your heart showed no signs of willingness to slow its rate. You had effectively given up, and realized you might as well settle in for the continued ride as Sans’ hands shifted to hold you close once more. A breeze drifted a chill across your legs and you realized the door had opened.

“hold on,  _ dulzura _ ,” he murmured against your cheek. You could hear the cocky grin return to his face and with how flushed you felt, you could only bite your cheeks and completely ineffectively roll your eyes behind your blindfold. 

Still, he seemed to pick up on your flustered sass as his chest rumbled in another chuckle as he stepped out of the car with you in his arms.

“i’ll drop her off really quick and come help you get that one set up,” Sans said once he was standing. Papyrus must have nodded to being addressed, and as you felt Sans shift just slightly, you tilted your heads back towards the car.

“Thank you again, River - truly,” you added, warmth and sincerity in your tone and smile. It was silent but for the car for a moment, then a breathy “tra la la~” was pleasantly intoned and you grinned.

You shifted to point your face towards Sans’ own, your arm still looped around him, the other with its hand situated in its now-usual spot against his lapel. “Take me away then, oh skeletal knight in suited armor,” you said.

You had a feeling it was a wider grin that pulled at his features as the fabric of reality unfolded and tore around the two of you. The darkness pressed in even despite your inability to see, and it was a  _ tangible _ feeling that clung to you like heady static and the roaring potential of something that was still utterly nothing - and then it sealed away as you pulled free with Sans pressing you protectively, comfortingly, close.

The air that rushed to right itself with the sudden appearance of the two of you was warm, warmer yet from one side of the room where you could hear a soft crackling. A soft squeeze from the hands cradling you let you prepare yourself to be set down, and with a slide along his sturdy form you were able to right yourself… slowly.

You simply grinned innocently at the near groan of a chuckle that came from Sans. 

His hands slipped to the knot behind your head. Your hands rested easily at his chest as you tilted your head forward for easier access, your forehead bumping against his cheekbone gently.

He paused just as he untied the knot, holding it in place. 

“i’ll be back soon enough, so hold on tight here, alright?” he said.

“Trust me, I’m tired enough to be far more elated with that request than anything else,” you replied with complete honesty.

He chuckled. “i’ve always liked your style, canary.” He dipped his face alongside yours once more. The fluttering in in your chest wholeheartedly approved. “ _ aun así  _ \-  _ esperemos que no muy cansada… _ ”

His words ran a heated jolt up your spine and before you could respond, light hit your eyes. Sans was nowhere in sight and with him had gone your blindfold, but you felt the fading tingling chill at your shoulders that let you know that he had taken one hell of a shortcut back to Papyrus.

Your breath left you all at once as you pressed a hand to your sternum. “... Cheater,” you grumbled, even as your lips tugged upwards.

You gave yourself a moment as a shudder ran through you. Your chest was still tight, and you knew you had a far too wide a grin on your face, but damn if going toe-to-toe with Sans didn’t fill you with every kind of heated joy.

As you pulled yourself back together, you took stock in your surroundings. You were in a room not unlike the room you had been in before Gaster’s last time you were here. However, only one double set of doors marked a way in or out, though it was about the same middling size of room. A grand fireplace surrounded by leisurely couches was the clear centerpiece of this room, though a long table was pushed against the opposite wall flanked by bookshelves that wrapped around half the room. As inviting as the seating area close to the curiously well-tended fire was, you made your way to the bookshelves first.

Your hand ghosted along the mahogany shelving as your eyes skimmed the visible titles. Some were in English, others not, others still seemed unmarked. As you looped around, you pieced together that one half of the tomes appeared to be dedicated to popular and obscure histories alike, while the latter half focused on scientific discoveries, theories, even outright research. The table had a handful of choices scattered about, and you felt tempted to snoop, even while your gaze drifted to quickly take stock of any other oddities. The room was the definition of a hidden and cozy casual bookish haven - a rich but simple rug graced most of the seating area, and there were warm, softly glowing crystal lamps situated on small end tables around the area even as the fire currently provided much of the low lighting and work. You had a strong feeling that the lamps were magical and could be adjusted in their intensity.

Turning your attention back to the shelves in front of you as you looped back to the history side, your eyes caught on a particular unmarked book. It was more of a journal if anything, handbound, and your index finger slipped up its spine with a near reverence for the craftsmanship. A gentle tug had it pulled free from its place, and you shifted to have a little light from the fireplace fall favorably on it. The cover was similarly plain, though a simple marking of a cartoonish heart graced the top, framed at the bottom by what you recognized with some mild surprise as the Delta Rune.

Your legs carried you automatically towards the couch closest to the fireplace. You sat down with your focus still on the book, remembering that it was the symbol of what had been the Royal Family in the Underground, the knowledge courtesy your voracious reading habits - only encouraged by the eclectic collections found in the Monster district, coupled with your careful but insistent curiosity and well-timed questions. 

One hand slipped with the deft ease of years of habit to free your feet from your heels. You tucked your feet up to your side and settled against the arm of the couch to let the firelight grace the pages as you flipped it open.

The first page was blank but for a few strange symbols at the bottom of the page and a scrawled signature, impossible to make out. Your brow furrowed, but you had no way to understand the message, so you flipped onwards.

Your brows lifted again as surprise hit you. The entire thing was hand-written, detailed and well-illustrated with diagrams and sub-labels and more. The handwriting was neat albeit oddly rounded, and you found yourself stopping a short ways in at one of the many pages graced with a replica of the heart on the cover. It was incased in a line dictating a shell, and seven lines pulled off of it to mark a list. 

_ “Determinación. _

_ Valentía. _

_ Paciencia. _

_ Integridad. _

_ Perseverancia. _

_ Amabilidad. _

_ Justicia. _

_ Las siete rasgos reconocido del Alma. Todo Monstruos y Humanos demostrar estos afinidad. Monstruos, in magia, Humanos, in físico preferido - y los dos in personalidad…” _

You blinked at the page and shook your head. Your reading skill in Spanish had been improving, but if what you were reading was right… the author was proposing humans and monsters alike had souls, souls each of a certain type…

You tugged your lip between your teeth as you read on slowly. You had spent years around the monsters now you of course knew that they tended to speak of them far more matter-of-factly than the vague spiritual reference various sects of humanity would refer to them.  _ El Fuego Del Alma  _ itself was named with the soul in mind - though you often felt with how monsters spoke of it, even though it wasn’t truly that often, it should be Soul, capitalized. And that was the thing - they didn’t frequently speak of it. It would come up in referential conversation, as they swore on the stars so too would they promise serious matters by their Soul, or reference an ache that they worried may be sourced in their Soul - but just as humans didn’t speak of ‘having heart’, you had largely, if suspiciously, chalked it up to a colloquialism referenced in their popular culture just as ‘heart’ in the sense of emotion, instinct, and feelings was referenced for humanity.

It would appear this author disagreed.

You turned the page, reading on to find what appeared to be references and sources to other monster research - you’d have to see if those were amongst the shelves - and dove into the first aspects of the author’s own research as you felt a tug in your chest and a chill at your shoulders, starting with the observational studies of monsters reflecting their Soul trait through magic that would reflect the color associated with that trait. Humans meanwhile would appear to permanently reflect their Soul trait in the color of their Soul, which could be drawn out in battle or in-

“so your knack for picking up on the important details even extends to books, huh,  _ estrellita _ ?”

You nearly fell off the couch.

As it was, you cut yourself off with a sharp inhale and dropped the book in your lap, whirling around to face Sans. He rested his elbows on the back of the couch and was leaning lazily over it, his arm a hair’s breadth from brushing against your own. He eyed the book on your lap for a moment longer, then lifted his gaze to meet your wide and flustered eyes. 

Your hand pressed to your chest as your heart slowed and you caught your breath. “That was a quiet one, even for you,” you said a little breathily as you lifted a brow, your mouth quirking at one corner. He grinned back at you.

“ _ curiosamente _ , i’ve been here for longer than just a moment without you noticing, canary.”

Your eyes went wide. 

Sans regarded you carefully, even as he bit back a snicker. “ _ no acostumbrada a _ being that drawn into something, hmm…?” 

You looked to the book in your lap, picking it up once more. “You’re not wrong there,” you said, still surprised at yourself. Your mind quickly sorted through the last few minutes, and then it clicked - the tug in your chest, the tickle of goosebumps that wasn’t a chill, but… 

You turned to face him thoughtfully. Your head cocked to one side and your eyes narrowed softly. Realization trickled in with the ease of inevitability. 

“... I feel safe here,” you said. The words were simple, but their effect was profound. Your brows lifted as the truth fully settled warm and strange in your core. Sans, meanwhile, went stock-still in surprise, and his brow bones lifted further than you’d ever seen them. His mouth opened, just slightly, and your eyes flickered to the rare sight of his sharp canines.

You drug your eyes back up to his with only a moment’s lapse. “I… haven’t felt like this outside of opening or closing at  _ Del Alma _ in a long time - and even there…”

Sans nodded, fully comprehending your role as a watcheye for the speakeasy. He snapped his jaws closed and after a moment inclined his head to you, holding eye contact.

“truly... it is an honor,” he said, his voice rolling unusually grave. Your breath caught at his complete understanding. You returned his nod, and he continued, “the feeling is mutual… in that, we trust you and your presence here,” he said carefully as he straightened, his eyelights never wavering from your eyes. 

The weight of that settled with you and your own mouth nearly fell open. Instead you took a breath and extended your hand to Sans, palm up. He looked at it curiously, then to you, before setting his hand in yours. You brought your joined hands towards your forehead and bowed your head slightly, touching it to his knuckles in the sign of respect and trust. You lifted your face once more, bringing down your hands and clasping your other on top of his to hold it completely.

“Thank you,” you said simply.

The distance between your gazes seemed infinite and immeasurably small at once.

The fire crackled in the hearth behind you, and in the pull of whatever heady force between you Sans stepped towards you, legs flush against the couch, and as the fire popped once more he squeezed your hands. The warm, familiar ache in your chest demanded you draw closer still to him, but you held back.

At last you withdrew your hands, and at the same moment space folded around Sans and in another sweep of a chill over your shoulders he reappeared next to you on the couch.

The gravity of the moment was broken with that and his accompanying wink. Laughter spilled out of you again, and you found yourself leaning over yourself, clutching your stomach as relief and a comfortable joy swirled within you. 

“You... you really are something else, you know that?” You managed, shooting him a sly smirk as you caught your breath. Exhaustion after these long nights was making you a little more susceptible to Sans’ shenanigans, you were coming to realize, but it didn’t seem like either you or he were complaining about that.

“what can i say, you’ve got me pegged,” he replied with an air of distraught exasperation… followed by another wink.

You drummed your fingers lightly on the cover of the book. “It takes many a year to be able to so well-analyze a person, but I take pride in my ability,” you replied with as much somber earnestness as you could muster.

You held gazes for a moment more, then you both snorted.

“ _ dices bien _ ,  _ pájarita _ ,” Sans said with his trademark grin, leaning fully back on the couch and resting his closer arm along the back.

“What can I say, you’re like an  _ open book _ to me,” you said, lifting the book in your lap and waggling it to match your own brow’s movement.

“ _ cielos _ , not that easily, i hope,” he replied with a lazy effort at a grimace. “though then again, i won’t fight it if we end up on the same  _ page _ .”

You roll your eyes at this one, even as you grin. “The real challenge here is figuring out how you’ve gotten so far with such half-cocked punning,” you challenged.

He pressed a gloved hand with fingers spread to his chest. His skull displayed the very picture of wounded affrontation.

“ _ querido corazón, tu hiéreme. _ ”

“ _ Mis sinceras disculpas, bien parecido, _ ” you kept your grave face, your eyes and your already-warm face the only things betraying your mirth. Sans’ eyes went a little wide, and it felt like victory when a sudden flare of blue crossed his face.

You grinned and shot him a wink of your own. Your heart was pounding a little too hard and you could feel that flush on your own face, but you ignored it.

Sans raised his hands in surrender then with a low chuckle and a dusting of blue still on his face. “you sure know how to  _ chirp back _ with the best of them, don’t you, canary?” The teasing in his tone was a warm one, and you caught clear appreciation in his expression even still.

You leaned lazily against the back of the couch to match his own posture. “Well, that you certainly are,” you replied. His brow creased for a moment, then caught up to his meaning. His grin widened, the blue deepening on his cheekbones. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, honestly,” you added, your expression teasing right back but utterly honest.

“... you really do mean that, don’t you?” he said, his voice a little softer. 

Your grin shifted to an easy smile. You nodded.

His gaze stayed in yours, and you felt another tugging in your chest. You rested your hand on it, even as you couldn’t quite bring yourself to look away. His own hands had lowered, and the one on the back of the couch rested near your shoulder, his thumb absently rubbing against a pinch in the material. 

Finally, his eyes flickered down to the book you had placed back in your lap.

“so… how far in did you get?”

Your own eyes drifted to the book and you picked it up, flipping the pages softly. “Well I’m a bit slow in reading Spanish, so I only managed to get up to the part where the author was about to explain how Souls can be drawn out-” you glanced up to him, noticing that he was leaning closer to you, his eyes on the page you had landed on. “You’re familiar with this book, I’m guessing?”

His posture stayed leaning close, and he even adjusted himself to sit a little closer still. His arm nearly scooped around your shoulders, though he didn’t quite touch you. His eyelights flicked to meet your gaze. “you could say that,” he said, a low humor in his tone.

Your brows furrowed slightly at this, but you grinned even still. “Even having to take it slow, it’s a fantastic read,” you said, eyes moving back to the page. “I feel like this is probably an original copy - is it? It’s all hand-written, and even the illustrations are clearly done by hand with care, and the detail and thought put behind the research, the explanations, the elaborations on complicated concepts in such an easy-to-understand way, even for someone like me who had never heard of Souls as an actual  _ thing _ -”

“ _ espera _ \- you didn’t know that Souls were…?” Sans managed to cut in to your elated rambling. You shook your head, a sheepish smile now on your face as you met his gaze above yours once more. You noticed he had the dusting of blue again, but you tried to not be distracted by it, or by him leaning quite so close.

“I had always thought that monsters were referring to Souls like humans refer to ‘having heart’ or something along those lines - a metaphorical sort of thing, not an actual physical - or rather magical, I suppose - part of you,” you explained. You were wishing you asked more questions on the topic prior to now, but it’s not like it was a common subhect of detailed conversation, at least not around you.

The arm not resting behind you shifted, and Sans’ hand covered his mouth as he regarded you. “... you’re not honestly telling me that no monster close to you, not even Grillby, told you what a  _ alma buena _ you have, or, uh, anything like that?”

It was harder to read his expression behind his hand, and you tilted your hand with a confused look on your face even as your face flushed a little once again.

“Ah- well, not like…” you trailed off, your gaze flitting distantly to the side. Now that you were thinking about it… “Well, okay, yes, but like I said - I thought it was like saying I had a good heart,” you finished, now flustered at realizing that monsters had been saying things like that to you. You were flattered in each moment, but again had chalked it up to a colloquialism. Your face flushed a little deeper at the implication. “What, wait - do you mean monsters can see my Soul? They really are real? I had a feeling, I mean the author was so well researched but I didn’t get a chance to check sources, even still-”

Sans lifted his hand from his mouth and waved you down. He was grinning, but his cheeks were definitely blue. “ _ está bien, está bien, de verdad _ \- i can see how it may be mistaken even by someone who spends a lot of time around monsters,” he said, his gaze to the side now. He ran his hand over his skull. “we do use it colloquially too like that, and it tends to be a lot more personal on some level or another when we talk about them literally,” he continued. His eyes went across the room, and even in the low light cast from the fireplace, you thought you saw the blue on his cheekbones burn a little darker. Your own cheeks burned in response as you realized what he meant.

His gaze flickered back to yours, then his eyesockets widened.

“ _ estrellas del cielo _ \- ah, personal in a variety of ways,” he managed, as your own eyes widened and you suddenly decided to stare at the fire. It sure was doing well. Very… warm. Sans cleared his throat at your side, still so, so very close. “that... as well… but also, there exist bonds of chosen family, and Souls can be involved in magic-oriented fights, and the Soul is the core of monsters well-being, and even humans can suffer from Soul sicknesses in severe circumstances-”

You managed to look back at him as your curiosity flared higher than your desire to recover from  _ that _ . “Wait, so Souls then… they’re essentially the core of monsters, as well as humans?”

Sans nodded, managing to meet your gaze, and you caught a flare of what might have been pride and approval in his expression. “monsters are essentially magical manifestations of our Souls - it’s why we turn to dust if we die. there’s not a lot of actual  _ physical _ matter to us, not in the sense that humans are physical, and that’s why non-magical attacks have a lot of weight with us,” he explained, gravity in his tone. You nodded - you knew monsters that had been killed, through stories as well as ones you had known personally even if not closely. Your chest tightened. Sans took a moment, his eyes shifting to your sternum, then continued, “then with humans, it’s a bit of the opposite. you’re mostly physical, and can take one hell of a beating on that front… with a strong, strong Soul at your core that’s highly  _ susceptible  _ to magic, even with very little magic of your own.”

Your hand went to your chest, right where Sans was staring. Somehow you knew… that’s where it was. A lot of things were adding up.

“... And Souls can bond?”

That shot his eyes right back up to yours. The fire popped, but you didn’t even twitch as his gaze and yours were locked.

His voice rolled out of him, low and careful. “ _ si _ .  _ si...  _ all Souls can form bonds, of different kinds…”

The way his eyelights didn’t waver from your eyes had you entranced. Unconsciously, your tongue dipped out to wet your lips. Your gaze slipped to his mouth, which you realized had been shifting and moving and opening throughout your conversation. You caught the edge of his canines once more, and missed the way his gaze flickered down to your lower lip as you tugged it lightly with your teeth.

He shifted slightly after a moment, his hand slipping into a pocket on the inner lining of his jacket. It took you a moment to tear your eyes away from his mouth but you did so as he pulled out a small, rolled object, pinching it casually between his fingers.

“... Reefer?” 

A slow wink was your response from Sans. He grinned as he caught your own expression turn amused and the atmosphere lightened slightly. “what, you’ve never been  _ amigos cercanos _ with the Mighty Mezz?”

You laughed openly, and leaned forward with a wink of your own. “ _ Cariño _ , I work at the best speakeasy this side of Ebott. I’m almost offended that you’d think I haven’t had my run-ins with a well-rolled one,” you said, your own voice low. You didn’t partake terribly often, but the variety grown and supplied by monsters was smooth and strong and sometimes when you had the next day off, you’d occasionally kick back with the band and relax and share. “Go right ahead. Another specialty of the Core, by any chance?”

Sans chuckled. “we may or may not have our own offerings,” he replied. You rolled your eyes amicably at his dodge. “ _ éste de aquí _ , however, was rolled by yours truly,” he continued, a sharper grin pulling at his face.

Your eyes narrowed, your grin turning thoughtful and mischievous. “Something of a special batch?”

He winked. In a smooth motion, he leaned forward and caught a rather convenient flicker of flame from a drifting extension of log from the fireplace. He crossed your body as he did so, and you found yourself pressed back into the couch with his collarbone nearly brushing your jaw. The smell of whiskey and pine returned, and you couldn’t help the small, pleased breath of air you took, the mulled spice of his cologne a subtle addition that nearly made your head spin. 

Sans pulled back to his position on the couch, his arm looping casually once again around the back of the couch behind you, though in your new position you found your shoulders brushing against the sturdy and soft fabric of his jacket. He was a little closer now, and you shifted… your leg now brushing against his own.

You twisted to better face him, meeting his cocky grin with a raised brow but a heady smile. He lifted the joint to his teeth, parting them slightly… then the bone of his mouth slipped inwards and he took a drag.

Your eyes shot wide at the way his bones moved like, well, lips. Magic or not…

“Dammit, Sans…” you breathed, nearly too quiet to hear. His grin widened still further though, and you knew he had heard you. Slowly, slowly, he exhaled. The smoke drifted serenely out of his mouth as it returned to its normal resting grin, though his teeth remained parted. It curled and hung warmly in the air, as at ease as Sans’ own air. 

You couldn’t look away.

He closed his eyes and let his head slip back as a little blue glow took over the end of the joint - preserving the smouldering light, you realized. Your eyes skated his form. Relaxing like this, in a way you hadn’t been able to see from him before, you felt your chest pull and a blush settle again on your cheeks. He crossed one leg over the other, his ankle resting on the top of his opposite knee, and you could see a wider expanse than usual of his broad chest covered by his crimson shirt… your eyes wandered up the line of his neck, his vertebrae, to the line of his jaw.

He lifted his head with a breath and caught your eye. He held it, relaxed, confident, but also... you caught the line of tension in his chest that you felt a sudden empathy towards, the tight pull of your own feeling like a mirror.

“... the next part of the book goes into more detail on the types of bonds a Soul can have,” he said. Your expression twitched in surprise, and you waited for him to go on. He glanced away, rolling the joint lightly between his fingers. “more ‘official’ bonds, that is. Souls can bond in… permanent ways,” he explained. “these are generally… unbreakable.”

You found yourself nodding. It made sense, in a way. You figured relationships and normal friendships were more like affinities regardless. This must be… well, “Something more magical in nature…?” you ventured.

Sans’ gaze returned to yours, and you caught that pleased look in his eye again. “exactly. bonds between Souls are done deliberately, though often you can feel your Soul  _ desire _ to bond with another beforehand if it’s right. there’s a trust and  _ rightness _ that can confirm things. And there are three main bonds Souls form… bonds between born family,which can be broken in serious cases, if the family relationship becomes that bad; bonds forged with chosen family, which only end with life itself and are between those so close that the Souls recognize these friendships as a ‘true’ chosen family; and… ah… the bond between soulmates.”

His face had a coating of blue and he lifted the joint and took a hard drag. His eyes drifted to yours as he exhaled. The smoke curled out of his mouth and his nasal cavity. His eyelids drooped slightly as he caught that you weren’t looking back at him directly, but were rather caught by the way he moved and looked as he exhaled.

You realized your distraction, your blush deepening despite an internal grimace, and your mind was trying to quickly register everything he had explained. You weren’t sure what to start with in questions.

He seemed to pick up on one, though, and cleared the throat he didn’t have. “soulmates - it doesn’t mean that you’re fated by time or anything like in human lore… but rather, it refers to someone that you meet that strikes so right a chord with your own Soul, someone whose own Soul trusts yours implicitly in a way that it cannot  _ let _ itself betray - you make each other stronger, work together well, are partners and - well,” he looked towards the fireplace and you felt his arm twitch at your shoulders. “... in any case, they aren’t terribly common, but they aren’t exactly rare, either - it’s a powerful bond, and from what we know remains even after one of the bonded dies.”

He shook his head from his thoughts.

“... you said you trust us, right?”

“Without a doubt,” you replied immediately. There was no hesitation in your core - in your Soul. As unsure as everything had been, you knew that you could count on Sans, Papyrus, even Undyne… even Gaster, in his own strange and self-assured yet graceful, ethereally intimidating way. You knew it when you first met them months ago, you realized. The thought brought a smile to your face, and a flutter to your Soul.

You pressed a hand to your chest again.

Your  _ Soul _ . It was there, somehow, not physical, not visible, but it was… it was there. Apparently tangible in some situations, tangible to magic, but those were details for another time. It fluttered beneath your hand, sparking a warmth in your chest. You looked up at Sans as it pulsed a little more, and caught him staring at you, a look that could only be described as soft on his features.

“... Without a doubt in the world,” you repeated. You tilted your head at him, a shrewd but kind look slipping onto your face. “And I’m sure you’ve got a reason for asking,” you added.

He chuckled, closing his eyes and shaking his head, a grin on his face that set your Soul twisting pleasantly. 

… It was going to be a lot harder to ignore it now, you realized.

“ _ eres demasiado inteligente, dulzura _ ,” he said, looking back at you. “and you’re right. i’ll… leave it to Gaster to explain at the time, but know that the trust is returned.”

Your expression twisted to intense curiosity, like you had found a puzzle too intriguing to put down, and you had to bite your lip to keep from pushing Sans for more information. He chuckled and began to lift his joint again. Your attention shifted to it then.

“Ah, if we’re meeting with Gaster later, are you sure you want to be…?” you asked, vague concern for Sans’ concentration under the intense presence of Gaster that may be coming.

Sans shook his head. “honestly, at the rate things are going and how things were when i came up here, i have a feeling Gaster won’t be able to meet till the morning,” he said, shrugging. 

You sighed. You had wondered, knowing the possibility, but that definitely meant it was going to be a long night then…

Suddenly, you found Sans’ hand with the joint closer to your face. You glanced up at him and caught a wide, mischievous grin. “ _ qué te parece? _ want to join? completely up to you, though i’ll offer that this is a particularly excellent magical strain,” he said.

You considered the joint for a moment. 

You grinned.

“I do believe I’ll take you up on that.”

You lifted a hand to take the profferred joint, but he pulled it away at the last moment. You looked at him, unimpressed, a brow raised to his widening grin. You reached out again and again, he tugged his hand back. With a huff you more quickly reached for his teasing hand, and he pulled it back again. You leaned forward with a glint to your eye and your lips twitching upward despite yourself, and again he pulled it back-

He caught your arm as you lost your balance.

You looked up at him with a stray lock of hair falling in your face. Your huff made it flutter lightly. He looked at you with a gleam to his impossibly dark sockets. You felt your chest hitch, but you met the challenge in his eye with one of your own.

“Sans,” you said.

“i’ve got a better idea to share,” he said in reply, his tone light, but the tilt of his grin had you wary and… perhaps a little more than intrigued. You cocked your head, waiting. He let you shift your balance slightly, your hand dipping into the cushion to the side of his leg to hold yourself better, still close to him. His face was slightly above yours, not two hand spans’ away. “ever hear of shotgunning?”

You were decidedly glad that your face was in the shadows cast by the flickering light of the fire, even if the look on his face told you he could see your cheeks well enough.

“Of course,” you replied, matching his nonchalant tone and looking to the side lightly. “I’ve always wanted to try it.” You returned your gaze to his, letting your eyelids fall just slightly, your own lips quirked impishly. 

His grin in response set a heat pooling low in you. 

His hand lifted the joint to his mouth, his eyes not wavering from your own as he took a slow, deliberate drag. As he lowered his hand, his other that had shifted to steady you slipped up your arm, and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the sensation of the supple leather and firm bone behind it trailing goosebumps up and over your shoulder, along your neck… before his index finger curled below your chin, his thumb resting gently on the tip of your chin.

So, so slowly, he tilted his face towards yours. You felt him pull softly at you and you followed his movements, tilting your own face. You parted your lips, his own jaw parting in response, drawing so, so close. A wisp of smoke slipped out of his mouth before he blew out softly, guiding the smoke towards you in a steady stream, hardly an inch away from your face. You drew it in with ease, your eyes on his, your heart beating wildly. Your free hand lifted slightly, finding its home on Sans’ chest. You felt his hand at your chin twitch, and as you took the last of the smoke you found yourself only a finger width’s away from his parted mouth, his breath somehow warm on your skin, the warm glow of the fire behind you casting strange, entrancing shadows on the bone of his face…

You pulled back just slightly, Sans’ hand following you, and you exhaled slowly. The smoke slipped in languid spirals between you, both of you unable to break your gazes from one another. His sockets lidded just a little further, and as you finished and drew in a steadying breath you found your eyes flitting to his mouth for the barest of moments. He inhaled and you could see the moment of a decision made pass through his expression. He leaned forward this time, not drawing you in but coming to you - but you still found yourself drifting closer even with his hand unfolding to slip along your jaw, your face tilting just slightly once more as he did the same.

And with the brilliant crack of broken quiet, the double doors swung open.

“BROTHER, CANARY! I APOLOGIZE FOR MY LATE ARRIVAL!”

Never had you so quickly shot upright in your life. 

Nerves electric from how quickly Sans pulled back from your face, you looked up at Papyrus - who thank the stars, had paused to strike a pose and sweep into a bow. He pulled upward with a bright smile once more, only seeing you and Sans sitting upright, Sans taking an incredibly, incredibly long pull from the joint.

Papyrus waggled his brow at you when he caught sight of Sans’ arm resting on the cushions behind you, audibly winking when he caught your red face.

Lucky, indeed.

“GASTER HAS STATED THAT HE WOULD LIKE TO MEET AT MIDDAY TO GO OVER THE DETAILS. AS SUCH, TALENTED CANARY, YOU’LL BE STAYING HERE FOR THE NIGHT!” Papyrus walked over and stood across from you and Sans in front of one of the other couches. “I’VE ALREADY MADE SURE YOUR ROOM WAS SET. IF YOU’RE READY, I CAN TAKE YOU THERE NOW.”

You had to take a breath to pull yourself together. With a bright and genuine smile, you looked up at Papyrus. “Thank you so much, Papyrus - you’re too kind. I would be honored to have you escort me,” You sounded a little more breathless than you’d like, but Papyrus was too busy sparkling to notice, it seemed. Even still, he looked back at you and glanced purposefully at his brother who was blowing the last of a series of rings to the side of the couch away from you.

In a tone far too suave and nonchalant for your liking, Papyrus said, “YOUR COMPANY IS A DELIGHT AS WELL! ISN’T THAT RIGHT, SANS?”

Sans looked back at Papyrus, an easy grin on his face. “ _ siempre tienes razón _ , Paps,” he said. His eyelights slipped to you, and he winked. 

A hand offered to you from Papyrus interrupted Sans before he could add anything. You took it with a grateful smile and unfolded yourself from your position in the couch - and you slipped on your shoes as the feeling of the soft rug below your feet reminded you of your earlier actions. 

Papyrus tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow. Sans paused for a moment, then stood as well.

“HE DID WANT TO SEE YOU BRIEFLY NOW, THOUGH, SANS,” Papyrus added. Sans stopped for a moment, glancing at you. You tried to will your face from coloring, and instead offered him a wink and a nod. His grin settled a little easier, and his hand went to rub at his neck before settling in his pocket.

“can’t say no to that,” he said with a shrug. “he in the usual spot still?” 

“ _ DESDE LUEGO _ ,” Papyrus replied. Sans nodded, then looked to you.

His eyelights searched your face for a brief moment. His look softened and his grin followed suit.

“see you in the morning,  _ ave cantora, _ ” he said. He looked like he wanted to say something else.

“Try not to work yourself to the  _ bone _ , Sans,” you replied, a gleam to your eye. He chuckled, the sound startled, and closed his eyes with a wide grin.

Then, he was gone.

You stared at the space that had reknitted itself seamlessly where he had been standing, your heart beating far harder than your face betrayed.

Above you, Papyrus sighed. You looked up at him as he turned you away and began walking out of the room. 

He eyed you with a teasing concern. “MY BROTHER HAS TRULY DRAGGED YOU INTO HIS BAD TASTE IN JOKES,” he bemoaned. His jawline twitched mirthfully as he added. “IT’S HARD TO UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU FIND SO…  _ HUMERUS _ .”

Your jaw dropped and you nearly had to pull an incredibly triumphant Papyrus to a stop as your laughter echoed down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so hopefully the 8k+ words make up for Papyrus' untimely interruption~?
> 
> Ahhh I've missed you all so much, you beautiful, beautiful souls. <3 I posted [a bit of an explanation as to why I've been a bit MIA](http://nighttimeskels.tumblr.com/post/152415742059/hey-everyone-3-so-im-about-to-post-the-update) and why I'll unfortunately have another week and a half coming of that next week. If you'd like the details check it out, but know that the circumstances should hopefully allow for me to write even still, so I'll be working on the story regardless. :)
> 
> ... and meanwhile, I'll be wondering how much romantic/sexual tension it takes before I can audibly hear any of you decide to mutiny. (σ =w=)σ
> 
> The build up is hopefully worth it, what with the plans laid for Sans and our Canary <3 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your continued support and kind words. I'm in shock that there's 86 bookmarks and over 450 kudos on this story, and I'm so freaking honored that so many people enjoy it enough to follow this! Your comments mean the world to me, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on our latest developments. ;)


	15. Shake My Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You quickly went to stand, but a cool hand rested on your shoulder to stop you. It still was covered by a supple leather glove, and it's touch sent a chill down your spine as you stilled. The dripping darkness you were becoming all too familiar with felt like it coated you._
> 
> _“Please, my dear, stay seated,” Gaster said._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Popping up here briefly to let you all know-
> 
> Due to a few ongoing requests and a lot of deep thought on my end, I'm adding something that may make translations a little more accessible! If you're reading and you see anything in Spanish (marked as usual in italics), it will like be followed by an asterisk (*)! It should have a little underline below it. I've done some work, and these asterisks are links to the best translation for the word/phrase _and_ if you're on a computer, you can hover your mouse over the asterisk/link _to see the phrase translated by me in a little pop-up box_ \- with no need to follow the link. I believe people reading on mobile will still have to follow the links as there's no way to "hover" in that way... but hopefully this helps makes things a little easier, without interrupting the flow of the story much. I'll be leaving out the most basic ones ( _si, no, gracias..._ ) and repeats, if they're simple enough.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know if this helps or hinders at all in the comments! I know it can be a bit difficult to pull up translations, so I wanted to find a balance without getting too clunky or sacrificing the intrigue and all. Unless you guys don't like this, I'll keep doing this moving forward because I love you all that much (and it's worth the extra work on my end~).
> 
>  
> 
> Aaaand, without further ado...

Something tickled your shoulders.

You stifled a groan as you rolled over, your bare arm slipping over your eyes for a moment in confusion. There was a creak of the floorboards, and you stilled.

Very, very slowly, you moved your arm from your eyes to look.

Sans stood at the side of your bed, barely lit in the dim glow of a candle you had decided to leave burning. His eyes were trained softly on you.

You inhaled sharply and moved to sit up.

“shhh, shh, canary, _lo siento[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/lo%20siento)_ , i didn't mean to...” he quickly took his hands out of his pockets and leaned in slightly, his knees pressing against the mattress, dipping your weight towards him. He moved to settle the blanket around you once more, but you had already managed to right yourself. The blanket now draped across your lap, covering the edge of your nightgown that you were suddenly quite aware had ridden high up on your thighs. They had left the nightgown for you as a small blessing and it fit you well – it was silk, and brushed across your skin in a smooth caress that now left a trail of goosebumps.

Still, as you stared up at Sans leaning closer yet, one of his knees now lifted to balance himself on the edge of the bed, you wondered if it was really the silk that caused the trailing chill along your spine.

Your hands pushed the blanket down to your waist, and you pulled your legs up a little closer to you. You leaned in too, a little closer to Sans, your voice just above a warm whisper.

“Sans, what are you doing in here...?”

There was nothing but silence and the dancing of the low light of the candle over your features for a moment. His mouth seemed to pull, his small grin almost turning downwards as he considered you for a moment.

Your heart skipped a beat as he started to lean forward again, pulling his other leg on the bed. His weight shifted and jostled you a little as suddenly he was in front of you, your legs unconsciously shifting as he moved to kneel between them.

Your name left him in a hoarse whisper.

Your chest tightened. You drew forward, your hands lifting to him without thinking, heat in your cheeks and your chest drawing you towards him as if by the insistence of the very laws of nature.

“Sans, I...” you tried, your own voice not much louder still. Your hands met his chest, slipping to lightly grip the lapel of his jacket as they always did. Without thinking, you pulled him a little closer. Your tongue dipped out to wet your lips, so dry, too dry. “... It's getting harder to hold back,” you admitted, your face nearing his, your eyes barely breaking away from his own to flicker across the dusting of blue across his cheekbones, his strained grin, the way one hand of his went down to steady himself against the mattress and brushed tenderly across the side of your thigh as it did so, the way the other was lifting to your jawline...

A low sound rumbled from his chest. “i know the feeling, canary...” he kept leaning in, and you felt like pure warmth was blooming from his chest against your hands.

Your own chest felt like it was on fire. You never wanted it to stop.

He kept moving forward, and you gripped at his jacket as you leaned back in turn, your faces hardly a hand's span apart, and you managed to hum a soft “oh” to him in vague response.

Your back and head pressed against the pillows that had been piled at the head of the bed. You couldn't lean back any further, and the blanket had fallen away from you entirely. Sans was hovering just over you, one arm supporting him, the other slipping along your jaw line, his fingers then dipping to brush your hair away from your face. Your legs had straightened out, and a jolt nearly shot through you as you felt his hips press against your own, one leg of his between yours.

He began to close the distance between your faces. Your mouth was slightly parted, your breath leaving you a little harder yet. His gaze had captured yours, and you had no desire to break away.

“... so why should we hold back anymore...?” he asked. His voice was nearly a growl, and he punctuated his words with a slow roll of his hips against your own. You gasped. Your hands slid upward quickly, looping to brush behind his neck, pulling him downward slightly.

You angled your hips and returned the favor, your grinding pulling a soft moan out of your own throat as you recognized the feel of the firmness at his groin and the wetness you hadn't even realized had been building on your end-

And then he _thrust_ , and his face was at the side of yours and his body was pressed into yours, his forearm slipping under you to draw you closer. You choked out another gasp as your body stuttered in the pleasure that lanced through your core.

“Sans-” you managed, your breath a hoarse whisper at the side of his skull.

His chuckle was low and rough, laced with need and a terribly strained control. You felt his hands tense a little, pulling you closer still with their unwavering strength.

“what do you want, _estrellita_... _?[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/estrellita)_ ” he tilted his head slightly towards you, and you could feel his jaw shift as his mouth opened, his breath a brush across your sensitive skin. His words were said right at your cheek, the utter _want_ in his voice unmistakeable as they caught so close to your ear. He rolled his hips again, slowly, carefully, repeatedly, “anything, anything you want... now, later, even if you never...” he then stilled for a moment. He clutched you close to him. “... just say the word...”

Your core pulsed tight, burning, not a want but a _need_ -

“Sans,” you managed, “Sans... I need _y_ -”

Someone knocked at your door.

You jolted upright- your eyes shooting open, blanket falling off of your chest.

Alone and suddenly, completely, _infuriatingly_ , awake.

Whoever it was knocked again.

… not to mention blushing up a storm and more than a little wet. You groaned and fell backwards.

“... Just a minute,” you called out roughly.

There had to be a special hell for any entity who would do this to you. Your cheeks heated further as you could almost viscerally recall your dream now that you laid back, your eyes widening at the thought of Sans' hands wandering further, where it might have gone if-

“Okay, _not right now_ ,” you told yourself hurriedly and a little forcefully. You quickly swung your legs out from the bed and stood with a shake of your head, even as a somewhat guilty upwards tug of your lips had you fighting the distraction of the heat still burning in your core. You were... really going to need to address this. And soon.

Your ran a quick hand through your hair and switched on the lamp at the side of your table. The sudden light had you blinking, and you quickly made your way to the door.

You opened it a crack and tilted your head to peek out first.

Papyrus stood tall on the other side, a brilliant smile on his face.

“GOOD MORNING, _AMIGA QUERIDA![*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/amiga%20querida)_ ”

You smiled despite your shifting mood and opened the door fully. You put your hands on your hips and chuckled.

“Good morning, Great Papyrus,” you said with a surprising amount of warmth – it was hard to feel bitter in the face of his strangely natural charm. “What can I do for you at – ah, well, whatever hour it currently is?”

Papyrus swept into a slight bow and gently took one of your hands to press his teeth to. You couldn't help the giggle at the tickling feeling – and at the way he waggled his brow bones at you. He stood up once more, pulling his other hand from where it hand been resting behind his back. In it rested a neatly folded pile of clothes, a pair of shoes resting on top.

“IT'S CURRENTLY NEARING NOON, ACTUALLY,” he said with a lifting of one brow bone. You grinned sheepishly. “I UNDERSTAND, HOWEVER, LATE NIGHTS FREQUENTLY LEAD TO LATE WAKINGS-UP, PARTICULARLY FOR LAZY BONES LIKE MY BROTHER...” He looked a bit exasperated, and you laughed again. “I SUPPOSE YOUR LATE MORNING IS AN ACCEPTABLE ONE THIS TIME, AS YOU WERE STRESSFULLY DEEP IN THE TERRITORY OF THE LESS PLEASANT COMPANY OF OUR ENEMIES,” he nodded to himself.

“Thank you for your understanding,” you replied, the corners of your smile twitching upwards further.

“I _AM_ VERY GREAT AT SUCH THINGS,” he said, tucking his empty hand behind his back. He met your gaze again and offered you the clothes in his other hand with a bright smile. “I WAS ABLE TO PROCURE THESE FROM... WELL, IT DOESN'T MATTER REALLY – WE THOUGHT IT BEST IF YOU HAVE A FRESH CHANGE OF CLOTHES AFTER LAST NIGHT... AND IN GENERAL! IT'S ALWAYS GOOD TO LOOK YOUR BEST.” You took the clothes from him and your brows shot up – the clothes were as of fine a quality as your nightgown, as fine as the clothes Papyrus and Sans – and no doubt the rest of the Core – wore. Your hands were gentle on the fabric, brushing against the tight weave in awe even as you knew they were of an incredibly sturdy and no doubt magical weave.

“Thank you,” you said, heavy gratitude in your voice. You looked up at him as you pulled the clothes against yourself, catching his widening smile and the light blush of orange at his cheekbones.

“NYEH HEH HEH,” he chuckled, striking a proud pose. “IT WAS MY PLEASURE, CANARY!” He took a step back, ready to walk away. “IF YOU NEED IT, THERE IS A BATHROOM TWO DOORS DOWN ON THE LEFT. I'LL BE BACK IN ABOUT 20 MINUTES TO ESCORT YOU.”

You nodded to yourself – a quick shower would be perfect. “Where are we going?” You asked before he could stride away with his usual speed.

“OH, WE'RE GOING TO HAVE LUNCH WITH GASTER,” Papyrus said casually.

Your eyebrows flew upward.

“SO YES, DEFINITELY MAKE SURE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOUR ODD HUMAN NEEDS. YOU DON'T HAVE BONES TO POLISH, SO I CAN'T SAY I'M TERRIBLY SURE OF THE DETAILS, BUT WE HAVE VARIOUS SUPPLIES IN THE BATHROOM FOR WHATEVER YOU MAY REQUIRE. SEE YOU SOON!”

And with that he took off down the hall, leaving you to collect yourself and dash down to the bathroom.

Sure, no problem, look fantastic and awake and ready for the powerful mob boss in 20 minutes.

Easy.

 

* * *

 

Well, Gaster certainly had impeccable taste when it came to his preferences for the outfitting of the Core, you thought. You were now wearing a fitted suit, the charcoal high-waisted pants hugging your figure just right, a cream-colored silk blouse tucked into your pants with a charcoal, well-cut jacket on top, a crimson silk lining to jacket providing a secretive touch that you couldn't help but love. Crimson earrings and cufflinks were the only other touch of red easily visible, and they honestly looked stunning. Paired with the slight heel of your incredibly comfortable new shoes, you knew that you had cleaned up incredibly well in the short window of time.

You tried not to think about the cost of the outfit or what you might owe for it as you strolled alongside Papyrus, your arm tucked into the crook of his elbow by his gentle and chivalrous insistence.

“AND HERE WE ARE!” He announced, stopping in front of a set of double doors. It had taken nearly 5 minutes of weaving through simple but impeccably decorated halls to arrive, and you weren't sure if it genuinely was that far or if Papyrus was taking you through what you had started to mentally dub the “scenic route” in a continued effort to leave you at least a little unsure of your whereabouts.

You had no more time to think idly on it, however, as Papyrus pulled open the door and ushered you in.

It was a dining room, quite simply put, large and centered around a table that must have been able to seat at least 20 people. At the opposite end sat two figures with only a single chair in between them. Next to the head of the table was Sans – you ignored the skipping of your soul in your chest at that – and the other appeared to be... some sort of yellow dinosaur.

Papyrus guided you in and sat you down across from Sans, pulling your chair out for you and pushing it in before you could gently wave him off, and he took the seat next to you. An easy lunch was already laid out for you, clearly a build-your-own sort of small affair.

“heh, Paps wanted to make you spaghetti, but i was able to convince him it'd be best appreciated as a full course for dinner,” Sans said as you looked up. “go ahead and start, the boss'll be along shortly.” He shot you a wink and you grinned. You couldn't help the blush staining your cheeks, but that was common enough around him lately, at least.

… You forced down the memory of your earlier dream with a fierceness that even you were surprised by. You reached for some food and shot him a wink right back.

You hummed gratefully as you took a bite of some sort of pastry. You loved Papyrus, but... spaghetti would have been a _lot_ barely half an hour after waking up.

“I look forward to getting to try it,” you said, shifting your gaze to Papyrus at your side. He looked absolutely _elated_.

“NO ONE HAS BEEN ANYTHING BUT DELIGHTED AFTER TRYING MY SPAGHETTI!” He replied, puffing his chest out slightly.

You caught the slight wince from the new monster across the table. You turned to look at them more closely.

“I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you,” you offered, noticing how they were torn between keeping a slightly nervous concentration on their plate and glancing at you. You set your chin easily on the back of your hand and smiled, telling them your name.

The other monster looked up fully at last, seeming to steel themself with a small smile. “H-hello,” she said – you thought, picking up on a few queues, that the monster was a she- “I-I'm D-Doctor Alphys,” she continued, her small claws pulling at a napkin she had placed on the table. “Though j-just Alphys is fine. I've heard a lot about you,” she added, her gaze slipping to Sans.

Your gaze shifted to Sans as well – who seemed to be looking hard at a pot of coffee you hadn't noticed. He finished pouring a good share into a mug and offered it to you. Surprised and wholeheartedly distracted, you took it almost reverently.

“Oh stars, thank you,” you said gratefully. He chuckled as he pushed sugar and cream towards you. You mixed it just right and took a slow, appreciative sip. Whatever blend of coffee they had, it might as well have been from the heavens themselves with how obscenely wonderful it tasted.

“glad my hunch was right about you,” he said. He lifted a mug of his own in a lazy toast to you and took a drink as well. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you took another sip.

You sighed happily as you set your mug down for a moment and glanced back to Alphys. “So you've heard about me, hmm?” You eyed Sans playfully. “Hopefully nothing too terrible,” you said. Sans rolled his eyes and grinned at you.

“wouldn't you like to know?”

“I do believe I would. I mean, look at that sly look on your _mug_. Not sure if that bodes too well for me.”

“aw, _sugar_ , you're the _cream_ of the crop. how could anyone say anything bad about you?” His gloved hand tapped the sugar and creamer jars in turn.

“Well you always keep me guessing, can't say I'd risk _espresso_ -ing any standard behavior from you.”

“oo, bit of a reach there, canary.”

“What can I say, you _mocha_ me push the pun envelope with your challenges.”

You grinned triumphantly at him as he laughed.

“Don't worry, it's all good things,” Alphys said then. You looked to her, and you felt your face color slightly at the sly look on her own.

You took another bite of your pastry. “... Well, that's good then,” you replied. You shook yourself and smiled at her again. “So, is it alright if I ask what you do?”

She hummed softly, and you could see her sway slightly. She seemed on the short side – maybe she was swinging her legs below the table, you realized. “... I do research and work in our labs,” she said after a few careful moments.

Your brows shot up. “So the 'doctor' is as in scientific research, then-? That's amazing,” you said honestly. The scales on her face tinted, and you grinned. “No, genuinely – it takes a lot of work to get to such a level, I know. Even without the details of what you do – I can tell,” you said, leaning onto the table and gesturing to her gently. “You've got a genuine passion about you. I'm sure you're incredibly skilled,” you continued.

Her scales were flushed fully now.

“ _G-gracias,_ ” she managed, burying her face in her claws.

Sans and Papyrus laughed, not unkindly. They both looked to you. You glanced between them, a little surprised.

“... y' barely meet her, and you already have such a good read on her,” Sans offered. You slipped a hand to the back of your neck and rubbed, shrugging with a smile.

“Just being honest,” you replied. Sans nodded, a softer gleam to the way he looked at you.

“YOU REALLY ARE SKILLED, _AMIGITA_ ,[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/amiga)” Papyrus added, the same pride he usually used in reference to himself in his tone now. You blushed slightly as Alphys nodded, still flustered herself.

“Indeed, she is truly a multi-talented asset to our family.”

You froze at the sudden buzzing cordiality of the voice behind you. You didn't need to look across the table at the sudden straightening of Alphys or hear Sans' exhale to know who stood behind you.

You quickly went to stand, but a cool hand rested on your shoulder to stop you. It still was covered by a supple leather glove, and it's touch sent a chill down your spine as you stilled. The dripping darkness you were becoming all too familiar with felt like it coated you.

“Please, my dear, stay seated,” Gaster said. His voice was nearly at your ear – he had leaned down to speak. You nodded, and a pleased sound rumbled from Gaster. His hand left your shoulder, and at last you saw him as he took a seat at the head of the table that had been left vacant. He again wore his impossible black suit, though this time a cream-colored turtleneck sweater was below it accenting his lean and broad chest to match his imposing height, and his gloves today matched the color of the sweater. Darkness settled and pooled over his chair in dripping translucent shadows. You were careful to not stare too hard at the odd pockets around him of what appeared to be a glitching static, even as small as they were.

Gaster's mouth twitched upwards as you studied him carefully. After a moment you nodded to him, a small but genuine smile lifting your expression.

“Good morning, Gaster,” you greeted at last.

He inclined his head in return. You felt more than saw the dark energy slip over the table and pull the coffee towards him; almost beyond the ability of sight to recognize it was a deeply purple tint to his magic, seemingly effortlessly working to pour him a fresh cup of coffee and adding in an... almost surprising amount of sugar to his otherwise black coffee.

You tried to not raise a brow. Another monster after your own coffee-powered heart, it would appear.

You did, however, address him again with an even warmer smile, putting the intrigued looks of your other companions to the back of your mind for now. “Thank you for the clothing, by the way – I believe I'm right in that it came from you? So... Shall we make a deal regarding payment?”

It seemed you had caught his attention as effectively as you had hoped. He paused after just his second sip, his eyelight flicking to you. There was... amusement, but definite interest. It was hard to read, but you knew it was there...

Sans leaned forward across from you, drawing your gaze for a moment. His own brow bone had lifted, but you simply winked at him. A moment passed, and his head nodded by the slightest fraction.

You knew such a 'gift' wouldn't come free anyways. Might as well make it fun.

Gaster lowered his hand just slightly, holding his mug casually in one hand with the other resting genteel in his lap. He watched you, studying you. You simply waited.

At last, “... Quite astute. What do you propose?”

You grinned, pulling your own mug to your lips. You took a deep draught, making sure to draw your words carefully together.

“Well naturally, I'm about to inform you of last night's events, so it's not as though I'll put that on the table. I also believe that money is a less-than-tempting offer... based on context,” you began. Gaster's mouth twitched upwards again at the last and he shifted to take another drink of his coffee at that moment. You held back a triumphant reaction. “So... how about this: I shall play a game with you, a challenge or puzzle even, one of your choosing. My terms are that we cannot play alone – we must have at least two other players – and we cannot start playing if I am under the influence of any sort of inebriating substance.”

Gaster pulled his mug away once again, settling it in his lap. He crossed his legs, his body subtly turning towards you.

Hook, line, and...

“... And what shall the winner gain?”

Your eyes narrowed, your lips pressing together. You set your mug down on the table and leaned in. Around the table, the other monsters did too.

“One request, granted. The only conditions are that cannot involve outright harming anyone else, or involve any sort of 'infinite' or 'ongoing' actions – so nothing like 'grant all my requests in the future,' or anything such as that. It has to be a one-time thing.”

A beat.

All eyes on Gaster.

Another beat.

His mouth turned upwards, and he extended his hand.

“You have yourself a deal, _tormentita_.[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/tormenta)”

Your mouth turned upwards as well. You took his hand in return, marveling not for the first time at the incredible quality of the leather his as well as Sans and Papyrus' gloves had. An incredible energy felt like it was below the surface of the glove, strangely cool to the touch. You met his eyes with as much of a confident challenge as you had begun speaking with. The amusement and intrigue was stronger in his own gaze, and you felt something like an intense, _dark_ curiosity in it's most sinister yet pleased form emanating from him.

Your gaze didn't falter, but you gripped his hand a hair more. You'd have to be careful to be on your toes whenever he chose to take you up on your offer.

Gaster's smile deepened.

At last he let go, and you took your hand back as his fingers trailed down the length of your hand in a lingering motion. You took a breath as you fought the shiver at his trailing touch and reached out towards the array of food to grab -

\- the small sandwich being offered to you already by Sans.

“ _tú querías esto,_ _no?[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/t%C3%BA%20quer%C3%ADas%20esto)_ ” he said, his grin picking up at the edges. Your surprise showed on your face, and he simply grinned wider. You chuckled in response, delighted at the gesture despite yourself. You accepted the sandwich from him, your fingers brushing across his own.

Very carefully, you met his eyes for the brief second the moment would allow. His grin had been tense even with his offering. Sure enough, you saw wary concern in his eyes. With a deep breath and a pulsing certainty in what you knew now was your Soul, you smiled gently and reassuringly at him. You gave him a small nod-

One way or another, you'd make sure he was one of the players.

And the look in his eyes in reply told you he was going to make sure of the same.

You both broke away from the moment at the same time, a bit of ease slipping through both of you after the exchange. Less than a second had passed.

With a pleased bite into your sandwich, you turned to look at Gaster again.

“With that settled, let's begin on the topic of last night,” he said. He rested casually in his chair, his posture still impeccable, his gaze steady on you.

You nodded, expecting the prompting. After allowing yourself a chance to swallow, you began from the beginning; you included every detail on the people who had escorted you, the precise count of turns and location as you could gather it, the process of entering the speakeasy as well as every detail you could pull from your memory of _Notte Oscura_ itself. As you spoke, you registered Sans listening carefully, Alphys at his side doodling... ah, no, drawing a diagram, it appeared. And to your left, Papyrus had pulled out a notebook that looked almost comically small in his large hands, but he was clearly taking detailed notes of everything you said. Gaster simply listened as the minutes ticked by, his attention unwavering from you even as he poured himself another cup of coffee with his magic.

As you finished the description of your interaction with the group who had called you over after your performance, Gaster nodded.

“I was able to provide the labels of the drinks as best I could to Papyrus when I gave him the samples last night,” you added. He had gathered them from you when showing you to your room, after quickly turning around when he remembered where you had mentioned you'd hid them. You had had to bite down your endeared laughter at his loud humming.

“YES, I DID AN EXCELLENT JOB OF SECURELY BRINGING THEM TO THE LAB,” Papyrus confirmed with a nod, hardly pausing in his notes. His script was neat and elongated and almost like something you'd expect to see in an ancient historical document from some sort of state scribe.

Sans nodded. “ _si_ , we've got them down there – Alph's already got them being analyzed.”

“Wow, you work fast, Alphys- impressive,” you directed to her. She looked up from the diagram she had been adjusting – from what you could see, it looked like blueprints, or perhaps a building layout. She flustered slightly and waved you off. You just gave her a wink, understanding her difficulty already. You faced Gaster once again, continuing your description of the events of the night, how you were able to pick out a fitting choice as you had all planned.

Sans' fingers twitched around his coffee as you described the way the guy had made it a bit easy for you in drunkenly draping himself over you in his cocky efforts to dazzle you. You kept going, but you glanced over at him. He returned your look with what you knew he intended to be read as a lazy grin, but you could catch the tension in it.

… That was good to know, at least.

“... and so the door popped open, Papyrus pulled him in and promptly took care of the little issue of his consciousness, and then I was pulled in too and we returned,” you finished at last. You had been talking for going on an hour at this point, you figured, and took the moment to sit back and drink some water. Papyrus paused for just a moment and slipped a small bowl of fruit in front of you. You smiled up at him, and he returned it before quickly continuing to finish his notes.

“and you said that you had seen several joints being passed around too, _cierto?[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/cierto)_ ” Sans asked. You nodded as you popped a piece of fruit into your mouth.

“I didn't have the opportunity to... _nonchalantly_ have a closer look to determine any kind of detail, but I'd recognize that kind of roll and smoking attitude anywhere,” you replied. Sans nodded, his browbones drawn down. “Think it might be some sort of magic mix...?” You ventured.

He grimaced slightly and shrugged. “ _dificil de decir...[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/dif%C3%ADcil%20de%20decir)_ ” he said. “there's a lot of potential when it comes to _Il Sangue_ , and none of it regarding anything we like.”

You nodded, the atmosphere at the table settling seriously.

You glanced to Gaster. His hands were steepled once more in front of him, his mug resting empty on the table. He hadn't touched any food.

Your mind was already made up as you absently watched the darkness drip off of him in glitching movements. “I want to perform there again.”

Gaster's eyelight was immediately on you. You couldn't make out much of his expression behind his steepled hands.

“... _Excelente_ ,” he said.

You weren't surprised as you nodded and continued. “There's too much more to know, I think, to miss out on the opportunity. I can wait a week – it seems an apt time frame for me to 'decide' to return for another night – and I'll be able to perform at their next guest performer night.”

“... we'll have more information about the alcohol by then, too,” Sans said, slowly. He was looking to the side.

“A-and I can flesh out these blueprints based on our notes and more,” Alphys added, nodding to the large paper in front of her. There was already a surprising amount of detail in what you now recognized as a layout of _Notte Oscura_.

“We shall plan accordingly for our priorities, then,” Gaster said smoothly, his gaze shifting briefly to Papyrus who nodded as he made a final mark in his notebook.

Gaster looked back to you then, an odd gleam in his eye. Across the table, you caught Sans' gaze return sharply to you.

“Unrelated to the results of the game that is to come, I must now ask you to do something for us,” he said, his words carefully chosen. His gaze rested on you, and you alone.

You regarded him carefully, weighing your options. “... What do you need?” you replied.

The gleam twinkled for a moment. “... First, then. What do you know of Souls?”

Your gaze met Sans' then. “Considerably more than I once did as of last night, actually,” you said.

“... she knows about the basics, and about bonds,” he said, not looking away from you. His voice was oddly hard to read.

Gaster nodded, looking pleased. “Perfect.” He sat up, straightening fully and causing you to straighten in return, your gaze pulling upwards to his. “You have done well for us so far, _tormentita_. Both in your years performing and watching over _El Fuego Del Alma_ , and as of late regarding your performances both unintentional and otherwise in gathering information on _Il Sangue_. You are intent upon continuing your work with such, work that is dangerous and will only draw you closer to us.” He took a moment, letting his words settle. “You know of Soul bonds, of their permanence when chosen, particularly of the variety that is a chosen family bond.”

You nodded.

He inclined his head briefly in return. You couldn't look away from him, the darkness pooling around you, drawing you in. You could see the deep, deep purple flitting in and out of this other existence, a purple that was almost ethereally cosmic, as if you were staring into the deepest reaches of space. Rather than unsettling you, though, it was beginning to feel almost reassuring in its familiarity. Gaster's mouth pulled slightly, a pleased twitch. “My dear... I ask that you form this bond with us of the inner Core tonight.”

Your eyes widened. If you could have, you would have looked at the others in the room. As it was, you exhaled hard, before gathering yourself. Slowly, you asked, “What would this mean?”

“You would be tied to us until death itself, and we to you,” he replied simply, his gaze unwavering. “In forming the bond, we will see your intent with each of us. Should you wish us ill – or have the potential desire to – we will see it. After it is formed, we will be able to more easily find your location, to sense your feelings to a general extent, and to feel when you are in danger. The same will apply to your for us, though there may be some dulling or alternate forms taken in these things as you are human.”

You closed your eyes. One breath, two... you felt the gentle pulse of your Soul. This was no decision to make lightly... and yet, Sans' words from last night came back to you. Your Soul already knew who it would be ready and willing to bond with.

You opened your eyes.

“It would be my honor,” you replied.

All at once, the pressure and drawing darkness abated. You heard a bright crowing from your left and before you could react you were swept up into a bone-crushing hug.

“I KNEW YOU WERE PERFECT FOR OUR FAMILY, CANARY!” Papyrus shouted, making your head ring even as you blushed and managed to return the hug with the one arm that wasn't trapped against his chest.

You made sounds that approximated a thank you with your face muffled against his sternum, and hoped he understood. Based on his tightening arms around you, you had a feeling he did.

A somewhat more gentle hand rested at your shoulder.

“hey, Paps, i think humans need to breathe more than that,” Sans said, far too amused for your liking.

“OH! I BELIEVE YOU ARE RIGHT, SANS,” Papyrus said, and promptly set you down. You took a deep, stuttering breath, your head swimming slightly.

“Thanks, Papyrus,” you said a little breathlessly. You looked up to him, and saw that he had his hands framed on his hips, elated pride in every inch of his being. You flushed a little.

“I-I'm glad as well,” Alphys said – you turned to look across the table, where Alphys now stood at the side of her former seat. She really did look happy, and you felt your flush deepen further and match her own.

“we all are,” Sans said. His hand still rested on your shoulder, and you turned to him. He was grinning, relief written across his skull. You started grinning too, realizing that a bit of moisture had gathered at the corners of your eyes. Your eyes went briefly to Gaster. He still sat, but his mouth was turned upward. You wouldn't quite characterize it as happy, but... there was a definite pleased aura emanating from the mob boss, and you felt incredibly flattered at that much. At all of it.

A family.

No, not just _a_ family. Your eyes went over the monsters in the room, then you mind went to the other monsters you loved – whether they'd be in the bond or not, you were soon to be even more officially tied to them, in such a _real_ way, and... they _wanted_ it. They wanted you to be a part of their family.

… It was _y_ _our_ family too, now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... are you more mad for the beginning or feeling some kind of warm fuzzy for the end, or maybe anticipation for the game~?  <3
> 
> I mean, so many of you all were begging for more after last chapter, but there's a few things that need to go down... so I'm afraid you had some _very_ pleasant dreams to tide you over. (〃  > w >)ゞ
> 
> ... let's put it this way. I wonder how your Soul will react to each of the monsters you're about to form a bond with...?
> 
> In other news, remember how I mentioned a couple chapters back that I had a few surprises coming for you guys? Well, one is that I'll be working on Speakeasy Soul for NaNoWriMo! That's right, _there'll be at least 50k of this story coming for you all this month_. I'm actually moving states right now so my internet access is a bit weird for a couple more days, and I haven't quite decided what I'll be posting like for it... but I will say, that comments are a heck of a lot of encouragement and often help me get through editing and onto posting a lot faster. I love hearing from everyone so much, oh my stars.
> 
> ... I am _particularly_ looking forward to bringing you the next chapter. So let me know what you think here, with a bit more varied character interaction going on and some little plot threads being laid down. We even got to (briefly) meet Alphys! More with her later, I promise. She's a bit... distracted, right now. Love you all, and see you very soon...!  <3


	16. Time to Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Well, I can't deny that, I believe I might be in enough of a tough spot there...” you trailed off, your gaze going a little unfocused towards the coffee table in question, then up to Undyne and Papyrus. The way they mirrored each other's scheming expressions as they clearly whispered behind badly-positioned hands wasn't the most comforting._
> 
> _You appreciated their obvious friendship at least, you figured._
> 
> _You gaze went back to Sans. “So does that mean I owe you something?”_
> 
> _His eyelids lowered a fraction. “a favor for a favor might not be out of order,” he offered._
> 
> _You smirked. “And what kind of favor are you looking for, majo?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (remember lovely readers, we've got the new translation setup going now! hover over the asterisk next to the phrase to get a pop-up box with the translation, or if you're on mobile/prefer you can click on the the asterisk - it's a link to the translation for that phrase in particular. <3)

The ashy sound of a log rolling was dulled under the crackling shift of the flames dancing off the artfully arranged pile in the largest fireplace you had seen yet. It stretched and arced over an entire wall, a carved stone mural of stars and constellation-made stories painted over a sprawling forest at the foot of a great mountain. Curving and low to the ground was the hearth itself, with the logs stacked and strategically aligned to stretch and create a long line of fire. It cast a gorgeous light over what you had discerned was some sort of lounge – or perhaps more accurately, a game room.

Behind the scoop of couches and the center coffee table was a round, dark mahogany table. You were currently tucked into one of the absurdly comfortable wooden chairs, seven cards face up in a shallow arc in front of you, hands pressed in almost prayer-like fashion to gently touch your lips. You regarded the cupped hands of the monster in front of you with intense, unwavering concentration.

A laugh pulled your eyes up to meet hers.

“Careful or you'll bust a vein there, canary,” Undyne said. Her teeth glinted particularly menacingly in the light of the fire.

Your lips lifted to match her grin.

“We've been at this for going on two hours, Undyne. I've finally got the hang of the rules, I think,” you said, narrowing your eyes a bit and glancing to her hands before meeting her gaze again. Your grin widened. “I'm determined to give you at least _some_ kind of challenge this round.”

Her laugh faded warm and bright before it could echo, absorbed by the thick crimson rug spanning the room and the seemingly decorative floor-to-ceiling curtains on the wall behind you, opposite the fireplace. She slapped a hand on the table, the vibration from it buzzing against your elbows.

“UNDYNE, PLEASE BE CAREFUL TO NOT BREAK THIS TABLE. IT WOULD MAKE OUR SIXTH ONE IN AS MANY WEEKS.”

Your gaze shifted to the side to catch Papyrus' mouth pulling into an exasperated smile before he could force it into something more austere and chiding for the shortest of moments. It quickly pulled back to his normal smile, and you snickered. He shot a look towards you, one of his brow bones raising as an amusing complement to his brilliant smile.

You shifted and waved a hand off in dismissal. “Your banter is simply the best, that's all,” you said, shooting him a wink.

Papyrus' cheeks pulled orange, almost hard to see if not for their glow in the warm firelight. “W-WELL, _SI! SÓLO LO MEJOR_ ,[*](https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=google%20translate) NATURALLY,” he replied, nodding briskly.

Undyne snorted.

Your gaze shifted back to her. “Alright then, fiercesome aspiring victor Undyne, roll then,” you said, leaning forward.

“Leave out the 'aspiring' and you can call me that all the time,” she shot back. With a hard blink that you took as a wink, she rolled her shoulders and blew onto the dice she had gathered in her hands.

With a sharp breath in, she shook her hands once, twice, three times – then in a flash threw the dice to the table, scattering them wildly, a few stopping only just shy of clearing the edge of the table. As one the three of you leaned in, eyes flickering over the dice. You hummed as your eyes quickly darted over the dice, a soft and urgent song, and you caught a flash of Undyne and Papyrus glancing upwards towards you before they shook themselves and refocused.

The fire popped across the room, it's heat still warm on your skin even at this distance.

Your eyes widened, just a fraction, as you caught the face of the seventh and final die. Was it really-?

Undyne shot to her feet, the chair crashing to the floor behind her. Her open palm met the table faster than eyes could track and at the same moment the table shook with a dangerous cracking noise, she shouted.

“ACT, YOU PUNKS!”

Your feet met the ground and you darted from the table at the same moment as the two monsters, lurching towards the couches closest to you with your eyes on the two prize items left on the coffee table. Undyne nearly tripped over herself as she tried to outright vault the table, and Papyrus' long legs already had him at the side of the couch – so you moved with the instinct pulling at your gut and pushed your momentum forward and _up._ Your left hand met the couch and you tucked your body upward, angling to the side just enough to clear the couch and maybe, just maybe beat Papyrus and the all-too-quickly-recovered Undyne you could feel not an inch from your back-

You full-tilt slammed into Sans.

A yelp escaped you and was lost in his strangled grunt as your tangled bodies crashed towards the coffee table he had teleported in front of and you had so cleverly tried to reach first. His arms grasped you and you managed to cling to him, squeezing your eyes shut for the coming impact. The sensation of falling gripped you like a vice, cold and fast with your head tucking towards Sans' shoulder as your hands grasped at his shoulders-

You hit the ground together, jolting and hard, but cushioned by the plush rug. Absently you thanked whatever lucky stars you had for the rug's placement as you tried to catch your stolen breath, rolling your head to one side as your hands were trapped and you couldn't push yourself up.

“y'know doll, you make it very hard to not continue to use the 'falling for me' line.”

Something shifted slightly underneath you. Your eyes snapped open.

Sans cleared his throat, his face in yours - he only needed to turn his skull to look at you. Your head rested at his shoulder, your arms wrapped around him. Your forearms were thudding with the dull pain of impact, but that wasn't exactly your focus at the moment.

Sans chuckled, but the sound was... strained. “well _estrellita_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/estrellita) if you're a _shooting star_ then should i make a wish...?”

His arms were still wrapped around you. They pressed in a little tighter, softly, and you felt the broad span of his hands settle a little more comfortably.

Your legs straddled his lap.

“I'm fairly certain a shooting star would have a bit more grace,” you managed in reply. Your thighs were settled over what you thought might be his hip bones. Broad, sturdy, and by the skies above how did his body manage to fill out and support you like that-

“it's not the fault of the shooting star for making it to the ground,” Sans said, chuckling, his eyelights not moving from your gaze. “i'm just the lucky _monstruo_ that was in the right place at the right time to get to catch you,” he continued. His voice was low again, that rolling gravel of a baritone that did terribly wonderful things to every nerve in your body.

You took a breath. Your exhale brushed lightly against Sans' jaw, and you felt a shiver travel through him against every inch of your body with it pressed against his.

“You always _comet_ me with such compliments, I'm not sure if I deserve them,” you said.

“ _corazóncita de feroz_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/coraz%C3%B3n+de+feroz) you deserve every bit of praise the world could ever come up with.”

“And you deserve a medal for distracting her so I could win.”

You moved to sit up faster than you thought your body could manage, but Sans' arms around you pulled you almost immediately flush with him once more. Your face was flush, but you were able to twist enough to eye Undyne standing to your side – across the coffee table, prize in hand, and a wickedly sly grin on her face. A slightly more abashed but nearly as sly Papyrus stood to her left, the other prize on display in his gloved hand.

Your eyes narrowed and your mouth popped open. Your gaze turned to glare and you directed it from her to Sans, playful betrayal in your eyes.

His brow bones lifted in surprise. “hey, i'm just coming to get you since we're done with the rest, _yo no se nada_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/yo+no+se+nada)” he said quickly, but a teasing grin pulled at his mouth even still. Your eyes narrowed further. He lifted a hand from your waist towards his face, open palmed. “monster's honor,” he swore.

You rolled your eyes but relented on him, swatting lightly at his chest. Your eyes flicked back to Undyne, who was looking entirely unapologetic. With a bit of work and a helpful shift from Sans, you freed a hand and pointed at her.

“That doesn't count,” you said, raising a brow.

“Sure it does,” she shot back without pause, shrugging without wiping the look off her face. “It's all about tactics when it comes to a _really_ good game of 7 Soul Jump.”

“STRATEGY DOES INCLUDE TAKING ADVANTAGE OF UNIQUE BATTLE OPPORTUNITIES,” Papyrus added, tucking his hands behind his back, his bright grin still featuring the sly twist. You noticed his focus flicker from you to Sans. “INCLUDING WORKING WITH... _CIRCUNSTANCIAS IMPREVISTAS.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/CIRCUNSTANCIAS+IMPREVISTAS)”_

Stars help you, he was waggling his brow bones.

“ _Imprevistas-_ you both were just getting nervous because I was winning,” you scoffed. You propped yourself up slightly, able to pull at least your head and shoulders up away from Sans with a little wiggling. You looked down at him. “I was winning... finally,” you grumbled, grimacing.

His grin was wide and his eyelights were trained on you, the flickering of the firelight casting somewhat entrancing shadows over his face. Your memory pulled at you, bringing you back to the night before, to the way his arm had drawn you closer, like the one he had around you now, and his other hand had skirted the line of your jaw...

“see somethin' you like, canary?”

You started, your face finally filling with the blush that you had somehow managed to fight off previously. Quickly you rolled your eyes, but a smile was on your lips regardless. You glanced quickly to either side, piecing something together fast enough.

“Actually, I was wondering more about the fact that we're not directly in front of that couch surrounded by the expensive splinters of a crushed coffee table,” you said smoothly – it was a genuine question, afterall. You were intensely grateful yet again for years of practice in distraction and thinking quickly enough to save your skin and dignity.

Sans' grin widened.

You raised a brow at him. “I don't suppose you'd have anything to do with that, would you?”

He shrugged, settling the hand he had lifted away from you behind his head comfortably. “i thought you might appreciate _un poco menos deudas[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/un+poco+menos+deudas)_  to the boss in the case of you busting up some property,” he said.

You shifted your weight slightly to raise a hand thoughtfully to your chin. Sans' grip around your waist tightened for a fraction of a moment.

Amidst your blush you replied, “Well, I can't deny that, I believe I might be in enough of a tough spot there...” you trailed off, your gaze going a little unfocused towards the coffee table in question, then up to Undyne and Papyrus. The way they mirrored each other's scheming expressions as they clearly whispered behind badly-positioned hands wasn't the most comforting.

You appreciated their obvious friendship at least, you figured.

You gaze went back to Sans. “So does that mean I owe _you_ something?”

His eyelids lowered a fraction. “a favor for a favor might not be out of order,” he offered.

You smirked. “And what kind of favor are you looking for, _majo?[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/majo)_ ”

His grin went a little crooked. “how about i let you know when it's time?”

His chuckle at your expression was a pleasant rumble against your body.

“do you trust me, _cari_ _ñ_ _a?[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/sweetheart)_ ”

You sighed in relent, smiling. “With my Soul,” you said, meeting his gaze.

He paused.

Then, with a warmth blooming below you in his chest, he winked at you. “then i'll let you know when it's the best time for that favor,” he replied.

You laughed, the sound soft even to your ears. “I'm counting on it, then.”

Suddenly, gloved hands larger than Sans' own scooped underneath your arms and pulled you upwards. There was a moment of resistance – Sans' arm tightened around you and for a flash of a moment you saw the hand behind his head shift, his eyelights nearly flickering into nothing – but then he relaxed with a put-upon sigh and let you go.

Behind you, Papyrus gently righted you, dangling you nearly alarmingly high for a moment with a bright and friendly laugh as you huffed at the slight dishevelment of your hair.

He set you down and brushed off your shoulders of nonexistent dust. Hands on his hips, then, framing the slim and strangely flattering cut of his crimson shirt that had been fully revealed without his usual jacket, he eyed you and Sans. “I BELIEVE WE HAVE A GATHERING TO MAKE OUR WAY TO?”

Behind you, Sans sighed once again. You turned to look at him, placing your own hands on your hips with a grin. He had crossed one leg over the other, looking for all the world like he had settled there of his own volition.

He closed his eyes and hummed for a moment, thoughtful. Undyne and Papyrus rolled their eyes and shared a look with you, a family all too familiar with his shenanigans.

“ _bien, bien entonces.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/bien%2C+entonces)_ ”

And he was standing at your side, his hands in his pockets. One eye was closed in a prolonged wink, the other focused on you with his usual grin spreading across his face.

“WAS THAT NECESSARY, SANS,” Papyrus groaned. He shook his head, straining to hide his smile.

“eh, you know me, _hombre,_ ” Sans started. Papyrus cut him off quickly.

“NO, STARS, SANS, _OTRA VEZ NO_ -[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/OTRA+VEZ+NO)”

Sans switched his single open eye socket's focus to his brother and shrugged. “y'know how much of a _lazybones_ i am.”

Papyrus stomped his foot on the ground and threw his hands in the air, exasperation in every line of his bones. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Undyne strolled over and hooked an arm through Papyrus' as he lowered them, cutting him off before he could retort and dragging him towards the door.

“Just don't even amuse the _mierdecilla_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/mierdecilla) Papyrus, _vamos_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/vamos)” she said.

“Oh, Pap, don't be too mad, he was just trying _tibia_ funny,” you called after them, beginning to follow.

Undyne flipped you off and shook her head without looking back as she unceremoniously kicked open the door to a strangled accompaniment of noises from Papyrus.

Sans was at your side then, offering you his arm. “careful, he can _ulna_ take so many puns in one day,” he said with a wink.

You took his offered arm and winked right back. “Seems like you've got a _femur_ puns in you to offer, though.”

He chuckled as he led you out the room, his stride easy enough that you Undyne and Papyrus were able to retreat quickly away from the pair of you down the hall as you entered it.

“you're _ribbing_ me if you think i'd run out of puns anytime soon.”

“So you could keep _patella_ -ing me puns all day, then? Sounds like quite the long shot, even for you.”

He met your playful, teasing gaze with a brow bone raised as the two of you rounded a corner. “you'd think i'd tell a _fibula_ about my skills?”

You leaned in. “Oh, I'd like to see what kind of skills you have, that's for certain...”

Both of his brow bones raised, and a deep dusting of blue slipped across his cheekbones. You knew your own face was a little flushed, and you couldn't help but wonder if he felt a similar pulsing in his Soul. You kept his gaze, though, and very, very slowly, winked.

He drew in a sharp breath.

The two of you came to a stop. Sans looked forward – Papyrus and Undyne were already out of sight.

“you really know how to dance, don't you, canary?”

Sans' gaze returned to you. With a skitter, the thumping in your chest slowed, skipped, and picked up again double-time. The halls were lit with warm magical lights dipping out of the ceiling, and you found yourself looking up at Sans, the light cast from behind him, his expression hard to read. His eyelights searched your gaze. He turned further to face you fully, your hand still gently hooked around the crook of his elbow. His other hand rested in his pocket.

Somehow, he seemed so much taller than you in this moment.

Without thinking about it much, your tongue dipped out to wet your lips. “Well, it _is_ something I do most nights with _del Alma_ ,” you replied.

Sans' hand lifted, his fingers drifting along your upper arm. Even through your jacket, you felt it, the fine hairs rising to his touch.

“ _sabes que no me refería a eso.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/sabes+que+no+me+refer%C3%ADa+a+eso)_ ”

It wasn't a question.

You nodded, once, a singular tilt of your head.

His hand slowed as it reached your shoulder.

“... You do as well.”

His hand moved to your jawline. You could feel that low warmth, that almost _vibrating_ energy, just below the soft leather of his glove. It matched the firing of your senses, the electricity that nearly burned your skin at his touch, the skim of his glove at the soft line of your jaw lighting you from the inside.

You wanted more.

He nodded back to you. A single nod, a short movement.

His hand stilled at your chin. You lifted the hand not pressing tighter at Sans' elbow to his chest, his jacket's lapel, open-faced. Below your palm buzzed a familiar heat, a bright, heady energy that you could feel matched in your own chest.

Thumb ghosting upwards slow and feather light at your chin, Sans shifted his other arm, unfolding it, dipping his hand to meet your waist. The movement continued, a steady shift pulling you gently, carefully closer till nearly his entire forearm was along your back, his hand marking the final span and holding you with a kind of care that made your heart nearly hurt with something too large to comprehend at the moment. You leaned closer to him, your chests nearly flush.

The hand of yours now freed from Sans' elbow brushed carefully up his arm. He watched you as you watched your hand, the soft and smooth texture of the suit making your hand's movement seamless. Up to his shoulder, then to his collar, then, then to his neck. His nearly imperceptible breath caught in his chest as the tips of your fingers drifted over his thick vertebrae, far thicker than what a human's would be. A shiver ran the length of his spine and you felt a rumble in his chest echo through to your fingertips as you lingered, the fine grooves and smoothly pitted surface almost like a rough stone soothed by the waves, yet with just a slight softness – the flushing influence of his magic, maybe. You looked to his face once more.

His eyes were lidded, and he stared at you with unmistakeable desire. Stilling, you felt your own breath catch, even labored as it had become – your chest was tight and swelling at once as your hand slipped down to the collar of his shirt.

“ _tiene alguna idea de cómo su...[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/tiene+alguna+idea+de+c%C3%B3mo+su)_ ” he trailed off. His mouth had parted ever so slightly, his canines nearly visible. The thumb at your chin brushed upwards, nearly startling you. So, so gently, to where you almost couldn't feel it, to where you felt the urge to lean in, his thumb slipped over your lower lip. The thrum of energy was intoxicating. His _touch_ was intoxicating. Your own gaze slipped to his mouth, noticing that it wasn't in his usual grin – and noticing further again that he did actually seem to have full control of his mouth, that he even had nearly undetectable lips. He chuckled, but he sounded nearly as breathless as you felt. “ _amorcito corazón,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/amorcito+coraz%C3%B3n)_  i'm not sure anyone's managed to make me speechless in my life,” he said, his gaze shifting from your lips back to your own lifting gaze.

“You do always have a way with your words,” you said. He was pressed so close to you and you to him. Every pulse of your chest was in both relief and a desperate call for something more.

“but you make me work for it,” he replied. An odd grin pulled for a moment on his face.

You huffed a laugh. “Weren't you just saying that you're a lazybones, Sans? What happened to not working hard for much of anything?”

“some things are worth working for.”

Your lips parted as a small breath made its unsuspecting way out.

The moment hung in the air; you, Sans, the air itself, your very Soul, frozen.

Then, with a passion blazing from your very core and a ripping instinct dragging you out of shock, you lifted yourself up as you pulled him down easier than you thought he'd come, and you met his parting lips with your own.

He didn't hesitate, crushing you closer yet to him as you clutched at his jacket, tilting your head as he met every ounce of your fire with his own. His lips were still firm, but softer than you'd thought they'd be, and they moved against your own in a way that was leaving you even more breathless than you already were. You gasped as his hand at your jaw shifted past your ear to brush and tangle lightly in your hair. He nipped at your lip in the moment of opportunity, his unbelievable canines dragging against you and pulling a soft moan from you as you recovered from your gasp, and you heard him draw in a sharp breath at the sound. You took quick advantage, returning his careful nip with one of your own before brushing your tongue over his lip in the same spot.

He growled.

Suddenly you were dipping back slightly, Sans' strength holding you secure and safe and you flushed with how _right_ it felt. You slipped your hands upward to loop your arms around his shoulders, behind his neck. As you shifted his tongue slipped out and met yours, sliding dominantly and fiercely against your own, and you gave precisely what you received in turn, not battling but meeting on the even playing field you had always been on. Passion roared through your chest, through every stretching length of your body, your Soul throbbing in joy and desire, and every instinct in you told you that his Soul was dancing in the same way.

One of your hands slipped to brush against his neck, your fingers dragging against the thick bone ridges - he groaned into your mouth before dragging his teeth over your lower lip, tugging and biting in a sweet pain that had you clutching yourself closer to him. Your hips shifted over his and you caught the telltale firmness there and you were torn between the heat pooling in you and the sense of elated triumph that was pulling a grin on your face-

“you absolute _descarada_ -[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/minx)” he growled. Your eyes flew open and you met his heated, bright gaze, his eyelights dilated and fixated on you, a grin pulling at his own lips before suddenly he shifted and spun you both as one. You squeaked at the sudden shift, disoriented in your state, and suddenly, fast and hard but just careful enough, you felt your back meet the wall.

Your arms were still looped around his neck. Sans still had one hand tangled along your hairline past your ear, but the other had lifted and he now rested his forearm to one side of your face, effectively blocking you between his broad stature and the wall. He gazed down at you, his crooked grin back and close to _predatory_.

Your Soul fluttered in absolute anticipation.

“Sans,” you managed, your voice rough and catching with how hard your heart was beating.

He leaned in till his lips hovered just over yours. He parted his, and you began to tilt your face just right – but then he shifted, his face ghosting just past your cheek till his mouth was at your ear.

“i love it when you say my name like that,” he whispered. His own voice was the roughest you'd heard it yet, his baritone striking you deep in your gut. A shiver rolled down your spine.

You tilted your face just slightly, dragging your hands down to his lapel.

“ _Sans_ ,” you moaned. You barely had to try to shift your voice enough for the sound.

He twisted and to your ecstatic delight you were kissing again. You dragged a hand upwards along the line of his jacket before slipping to the button at the top of his shirt. His arms shifted as you did so, quickly scooping to your lower back. With deft fingers as he scraped his addicting teeth against your mouth once again, you unclasped the top most button. You met his tongue with a fierceness you were reeling from as his arms moved, one lifting to grasp at you between you shoulder blades, the other shifting down, down, his hand slowing as it brushed over your ass, appreciative and deliberate.

You groaned into the kiss, arching your torso to press more fully into him once again. He held you close, slowing the kiss slightly with a passion and attentiveness to your movement that left you dizzy. His hand at your ass slipped to your hip as he pulled you close, your breath catching again as you flooded with an energy not quite your own, feeling it swirl and your emotions rise further yet as the heat in your gut drug insistent while your Soul thudded in passionate pain and the heat in your cheeks spread, a prickling heat building at the corners of your eyes. Sans held you as if you were all that was left in the world, as if he wouldn't have it any other way, and you felt yourself thrum in an agreement that was leaving you lightheaded.

You both broke the kiss at the same moment, panting in an effort to stay standing, holding one another closer yet. Your eyes fluttered as you opened them, meeting Sans' dazed gaze.

Before you could speak or before you could close that small distance between you to the urge of every instinct in you, you heard the slam of a door opening.

“Hey, where the hell are you punks, just because we left you behind doesn't mean you get to take all night to get over here-”

Undyne's voice boomed through the hall, coming just around the corner they must have turned. Before you or Sans could regain yourselves enough to react, she turned the corner and froze.

You and Sans stared at Undyne.

She stared back.

Awareness that your hand rested at Sans' next button down, that his grip was pressing you in a slight arch along the length of his body, awareness that your hair was a mess and that your lips felt and no doubt _looked_ utterly, thoroughly kissed, and that Sans' face out of the corner of your eye appeared to be only just fading from a deliciously dark blue – it all crashed through you.

“UNDYNE, WHAT'S HAPPENING, _ESTÁN AHÍ[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/are+they+there)? _ WHAT WAS THAT ENERGY PULSE-”

“Yeah, yeah, they're here, just being _idiotas_ and taking their sweet time,” Undyne called back.

Her grin had gone completely wolfish. You fought the spike of resigned dread at what that would mean for your future self.

She put her hands on her hips and eyed the two of you. “They're coming,” she added. Then, making sure you weren't pulling your attention away, she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Can I hit her,” you whispered to Sans, horror and amusement in your voice at the wordplay.

“don't think y' wanna start that with that particular look on her face,” he managed to reply.

Undyne's grin grew, and you knew she had probably heard you. “ _Es sobre hora maldita_ ,[*](https://translate.google.com/#es/en/Es%20sobre%20hora%20maldita)” she said in a slightly quieter voice, to your surprise. Still, you rolled your eyes, even though a slightly sheepish grin was spreading across your face.

You moved to step back from Sans, realizing at last that you hadn't moved from your slightly compromising position, but his arms were a little too reluctant to relent, so you settled for just moving to rest your hands a little less suggestively on his chest.

“ _nos deja un momento a solas?[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/nos+deja+un+momento+a+solas)_ ” Sans all but drawled. Undyne smirked more broadly and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, _Don Juan_. Just hurry it up, unless you want more company out here,” she shot back before disappearing around the corner with a cheeky wave.

You both stared after her for a moment.

As one, you breathed out. You let your forehead dip and gently hit his collarbone in relief and resignation.

“Didn't take long for the cat to get out of _that_ bag,” you muttered, still flushed.

Sans' chuckle was still a little breathless, but warm. It pulled a slight grin back onto your face as you lifted it.

“don't you mean the _fish_ out of the bag..?” he said, a brow bone raising.

You rolled your eyes. “Not sure that adjustment to the saying quite works,” you replied, your own brow lifting with your smile.

“shhh, it's all about going with the flow,” he said. His face leaned towards yours again.

You felt your heartbeat pick up all over again.

The quickening pulse of your Soul followed suit.

You bit down a pleased curse. “If we go with _this_ flow, we'll never make it in that room,” you said, your focus flitting down to his lips and back up again.

“... is that a promise?”

You smacked his chest lightly, your blush flaring as the heat in your gut matched. Grinning still you pushed lightly at his chest, and he frowned teasingly.

“ _Sans_ ,” you insisted.

“see, you saying my name in that kinda way isn't really helping,” he replied, his hands lingering at your hips.

You swore he could see your crumbling resolve. You stood a little straighter, still tilting your head with how close you were so you could meet his gaze.

“We've got something a little more important than usual to take care of,” you said, your lips still turned upwards. It took a little effort to keep your fingers from sliding down his chest again, from slipping into the easy hold you could get along the line of his jacket...

You took a deep breath, your lids fluttering closed for a brief moment before meeting his gaze again. Every pulse of your strained control was reflected on his own face. A few seconds passed like this, wondering if either would crack.

Finally, with a groan, he exhaled. “you're right all too often, _cariña._ ” He searched your face one last time, his eyelights grazing the curve of your features, the softness of your lips.

For the second time that night, he offered you his arm.

“ _por tu voluntad,[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/por%20tu%20voluntad)_ ” he said, a grin once more on his face.

You took some pleasure in that he was looking equally affected by what had just passed.

“... _Voluntad_ might be stating it a bit strongly,” you replied dryly as you took his arm. “Trust me, I'd delay if it wasn't something quite so important.”

Well, _great_ pleasure might be a slight bit more accurate. Sans stood a little straighter now too, an incredibly pleased tilt to his grin, the slight blue flush of his face darkening for a short moment more. Granted, you also clearly had things to talk about, by the stars, but...

A wider grin and a returning blush crept to your cheeks as your free hand deftly twisted and tugged your mussed hair into some semblance of submission. You and Sans turned the corner just as you finished, and you noted that Sans had timed it just right. With a quick wink to him, you focused forward again, your heart beating a little faster both at the warm and mischievous grin he had returned and at the sight of the open door to your right.

“... _l_ _istos?[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/listos%3F)_ ” Sans asked you, slowing before you could reach it.

You were quiet for a moment, your grip at the crook of his elbow tightening just slightly.

Then, you glanced at him. You smiled, your brow lifting.

“I may not know all the details of what's about to happen, but I don't think I've ever been more ready for something,” you began. “After all... this is family.”

Sans' grin widened. “i always felt that you fit right in. i suppose i oughta thank you for proving me right time and again.”

You strode together into the light casting through the door from, of course, the fireplace within the room.

“I ought to thank _you_ for letting me be part of your family.”

A crackling noise in front of you drew your attention from Sans before he could reply.

“ _Chispita_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/chispita) you wouldn't be here if we didn't feel the same fond way of you.”

You gasped in delight as Sans chuckled. In front of you stood Grillby himself, sleeves rolled above his elbows, arms crossed, the flicker of a smile in the flames of his face. Sans lifted his arms slightly, and you let go of him to take a few steps forward, extending your arms.

Grillby crackled again, his low laughter warming you nearly as much as his flames. He extended his arms in return and tucked you into a pleased hug, with your head barely reaching the line of his collarbone thanks to his height. The flames of his body tickled your skin and you laughed brightly, elated to see your friend even though it hadn't even been more than two days since you saw him last.

You pulled back, your hands slipping to rest in his as you looked up at him with a shrewd smile.

“I knew you were closer than you let on, but to be in the inner circle- Grillby, _que astuto,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/que+astuto?d=0)_ ” you said with some admiration. He smirked, his flames flickering brightly.

He squeezed your hands lightly, shooting a smile behind you to Sans in greeting as well. Pulling back slightly, he cocked his head. “Now, would you care to see the rest of your nearly-bound chosen Family?”

You smiled up at him. “I would be honored.”

With a sweeping step to the side and a gesturing bow to encourage you forward, Grillby opened up to the room. A short ways away stood a group of very familiar monsters, and you found your smile spreading a little wider, a flutter in your Soul.

You stepped forward, Sans and Grillby at either shoulder, completing the semi-circle they had formed.

“Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys – Gaster,” you greeted, bowing slightly at the last. “I don't believe saying that it's an honor covers the feeling entirely, to be honest,” you continued. Honesty pulsed deep within you, and you looked at each monster in turn, including Sans and Grillby.

Gaster stepped forward, and as you noted that the sole light in the room was coming from the fireplace – and from Grillby – you also noticed that Gaster's shadows seemed to be even darker than usual, brimming with the glitching unreality that was easier now to recognize yet no simpler to comprehend.

“Welcome, my dear,” he said. “I know I speak for all of us when I say that it is a pleasure as well, and we hope that you are able to join our family... successfully.”

You saw a few shifting movements to either side of both Gaster and yourself, but you ignored it.

You met his drawing gaze, stepping forward as seemed to be expected.

“You give me every inspired reason to certainly give it my all,” you replied, hands tucking respectfully behind your back. “To be considered part of your Family... I do not regard this lightly. I will always strive to do you – and everyone here - proud in my actions as a member of the Family, should this go as we hope.”

Gaster regarded you for a moment.

Then, he smirked, and extended his gloved hand to you.

“Very good, _tormentita_.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/tormenta) Let us begin.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so, I _was_ going to wait until I had every piece of this whole deal completely done and post it in one big chapter, but it was getting... incredibly long, and after some extensive editing I realized that our Canary and Sans were _not_ going to feasibly make it till after the coming events to finally give in so I worked it together and here you are.  <3
> 
> Stars above, I hope it was a good start. Too bad they've got a bit of prior arrangement going on - not much time to talk. Juuust enough time to get caught kissing one another senseless... Seriously. It's 1K of kissing. I mean, by my standards, that's light, but, ah... imagine what will happen when they have a little more time to themselves...? <3
> 
> I should have the next part edited to satisfaction within a day or two depending, so if you can please leave me your thoughts and/or strangled noises~! In retrospect, I think "slightly slowburn" in my very original tags is accurate only sort of by chapter count. It's a full 87K, nearly 90K including the wordcount within the chapter, till I actually gave you that bit of satisfaction just by kiss... ( =w=)ゞ woops.
> 
> Love you all as always, and thank you _so_ much for all your kind words and kudos. For those of you who've mentioned/asked about fanart, seriously, stars above, I love you dearly and _heck yes_ I would love to see _anything_ you've done - feel free to post a link in the comments, or tag me/send me an ask or message via [Tumblr](nighttimeskels.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> See you soon...~  
>  
> 
> EDIT:  
> Shout out to the utterly sweet and talented Dark_Crystal_Demon, who gave me a far-too-kind shoutout on the second chapter of their Heat-tale fic, a series featuring one-shots about Undertale characters in heat (with the second one-shot being set in a mafiatale/mobtale au). It's (of course) _extremely_ NSFW and more than a little kinky, but I recommend checking it out if you are down with any of that (check out the tags if you need) as their writing is fantastic and they get to the steamy point exponentially quicker than I apparently will, and in all the best ways.
> 
> (aaand edit 2- caught a spelling error... sorry if the edits were pinging you if you have notifications for this story!)


	17. The Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"My Soul..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been far, _far_ too long.
> 
> For those of you coming from subscription notifications - you didn't read it wrong...
> 
> This chapter is over 18k. 
> 
> I'll have more notes at the bottom. For now, thank you all so much for waiting... and incredibly fittingly, Happy Valentine's Day. <3

It was a surreal and charged action, slipping your hand into Gaster's gloved one. Below the supple leather buzzed an energy that reminded you of Sans, but filled far more with a sensation that matched what came over you when you stared too long at the shadows that coiled and rolled off of his towering form. He held your hand like a gentleman about to press a kiss to your knuckles, but unsurprisingly he never bent to do so. You tried to wipe that particular image from your mind as he focused on you.

“ We have told you that this bond is for life, that we will know your intentions without fail in the process of making them... and I'm sure we have no need to further elaborate on what will be done should those intentions be less than desirable,” Gaster said. His rich voice did not echo, absorbed as it was in the thick rug spanning the room, nor did it boom. It was almost soft. It commanded everyone's attention, and even still you saw a hint of amusement in the corner of his mouth, despite knowing there wasn't a hint of hesitation in his dark promise.

You nodded.

His mouth twitched upward.

“ _Muy bien_ .[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/muy%20bien) I believe what you do not know is precisely  _ how _ this bonding will occur,” he continued.

“ I'll admit it's something I'm more than a little curious about,” you said carefully with a small grin.

With your hand still resting in his grasp, a few beats passed motionless, and then he nodded. His gaze flicked over to Papyrus.

Papyrus stood a little straighter – an impressive feat, considering his already impeccable posture – and he gave a quick half bow. He then beamed at you.

“ BONDING, OF ANY KIND, IS A VERY PERSONAL AND INVOLVED PROCESS! IT'S NOT SOMETHING THAT CAN JUST BE DONE WITH A WAVE OF THE HAND, MAGIC OR NOT,” he explained. “A BOND MUST BE ESTABLISHED WITH EACH OF US INDIVIDUALLY BEFORE WE COMPLETE THE PROCESS AS A FAMILY.”

“ You will need to prove your worth in this bond and demonstrate your ability to form it with each of us,” Gaster said, drawing your gaze back to him. “ _Una tras otro_.[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/una%20tras%20otro) They will understand you to a degree no one else outside of a family bond could, and we witnessing this will be able to feel the emotions and intentions of both of you as you complete this process.”

“That… makes sense, really,” you said.

Gaster’s gaze felt heavy on you. “I shall add… even in ages past, most humans never established these bonds. They take an openness and strength of positive intent most humans seem wary to form even with one another, let alone permanently with those of monsterkind.”

You took a deep breath. One by one with each of them... intentions on display, personal feelings known about one another to some great degree. A level of openness that most would balk at.

You met Gaster's gaze, serious in return, and nodded once more.

“ I shall consider you _listo_ ,[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/listo) then. Papyrus?”

Before Gaster could even fully turn, Papyrus stood next to him, at full attention, an elated smile spread across his skull.

You were struck for a moment again by how much taller than you the skeleton monster was; your head barely reached his collarbone, and you had to tilt your face upwards a considerable amount to meet his gaze when he stood so close. He quickly slipped out of his suit jacket, and before he could turn it floated out of his hands, dimly covered by blue, to be caught by Sans. He flipped it over his shoulder, one finger hooked in the collar. He tossed you a wink at noticing your stare, and your slightly reddened face lit up a little further, but you grinned and rolled your eyes. Your focus flickered back down in front of you when you noticed the shift of Papyrus’ hands.

He was finishing rolling up his sleeves, the crisp crimson shirt now situated so that the impeccably rolled cuffs settle just below his elbow, revealing the unexpectedly thick bones of his forearm. They were still on the lean side, by way of build, but now you could see how on earth he – and quite probably Sans – filled out his suit. His curiously lithe fingers plucked the tips of the ends of the opposite glove, tugging gently before altogether pulling it off entirely, and then repeated the process for the other hand.

The smooth joints of his fingers interlocked, sliding over one another without floating space or apparent difficulty in movement, blending into his knuckles that connected similarly to the bones of his hand, seeming almost like fluidly overlapping plates of bone that nonetheless moved in a manner much like your own hand. The true oddity however was the smooth, perfect circle of a hole in the dead center of his right palm, edged in a smoky black.

You couldn't help but stare as the bones moved seamlessly and uninterrupted around it.

“ IT IS A BIT INTRIGUING, ISN'T IT?” Papyrus remarked, tucking his gloves neatly into the pocket of his pants. You jumped slightly, then met his gaze with a sheepish expression. He shook his head, still smiling. “ _NO TE PREOCUPES_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/no+worries) CANARY! I'VE HAD IT FOR A LONG TIME NOW AND THOUGH I DON'T OFTEN HAVE MY GLOVES OFF, I'M QUITE USED TO THE STARES!”

You frowned as your focus went to his right palm, then back to his face. Your gaze flickered to Sans without meaning to.

That odd neutral grin of his had settled once more across his features, but you were more focused on the way his eyelights rested on you, unwavering, intent... curious. Challenging. Worried. Ready... 

Wanting.

It took all your willpower to take a deep breath and refocus on Papyrus. You met his gaze again, noticing that one of his brows had raised. Papyrus winked at you, quite audibly.

Gaster took your hand still resting in his and offered it in a small movement to Papyrus. You barely stopped yourself from jumping at the shift – somehow, you had nearly forgotten that Gaster was still holding your hand. From the way you could feel him staring at you as you determinedly avoided showing that you had  _ noticed  _ his stare, he very much knew it.

Instead you focused on the feeling of Papyrus' hand as he gently took yours from Gaster. The dark mob boss stepped away, flowing into the circle surrounding you that shifted without prompting to make room for him. Papyrus' bones were a similar texture to Sans' as you had noticed earlier in the hallway – a worn sort of texture like a rough stone tumbled of its edge, with the slightest, slightest amount of give felt when he squeezed your hand. Tingling raced up your fingers and through your palm for a moment as though your hand was suddenly waking up from being asleep before the sensation lessened. A gentle warmth radiated from the bone, and you realized he was reassuring you. Once more looking up to meet his gaze, you caught the softer edge to his usually boisterously bright expression.

“ MONSTERS ARE LARGELY MADE OF MAGIC, _SABES ESO, NO?[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/sabes%20eso)"_  he said. You nodded. His gaze drifted to your other hand as he gently reached for it, taking it in his free one. He held your hands up, nearly at shoulder height for you. The warmth from his hands was soothing, and you felt the nerves you had been ignoring relax just slightly. He met your gaze again. “IT’S SOMETHING YOU CAN FEEL NOW, I’M SURE. HAVING CONTACT LIKE THIS WILL MAKE THE PROCESS A BIT... EASIER, ESPECIALLY THIS NEXT STEP. I'M GOING TO CALL YOUR SOUL OUT NEXT.”

“ My soul...” you breathed. You felt a pulsing intensify again in your chest, nearly in the same space you could feel your heart beating so quickly – yet somehow... your expression twisted, and you heard a rumbling chuckle from the edge of the circle from Sans as if he had figured out what you were trying to feel.

“ IT'S NOT PHYSICAL, OF COURSE! IT'S A FORM OF MAGIC, ALMOST, EVEN IN HUMANS. IT  _ CAN  _ BE TOUCHED WHEN IT'S CALLED OUT, THOUGH I... ADVISE AGAINST IT, EVEN WITH GOOD INTENTIONS,” Papyrus explained, his grip tightening on your hands for a brief moment towards the end as he hedged. Your eyes narrowed slightly before Grillby spoke up.

“ Perhaps especially if you're doing it with good intentions, depending on how good they are,” he said, his deep voice crackling. You shot him a questioning look, suspicion quirking your brow, but he simply flickered in amusement. Sans stood to one side of him and he was now sweating slightly and looking idly towards the ceiling, his cheeks tinged blue above his unchanging grin. Before you could ask further, Papyrus spoke up again.

“ IN ANY CASE! THIS WILL BE A SPECIAL SITUATION, AS I'LL BE INITIATING THE – WELL! HM,” he paused, cocking his head slightly, a mischievous tilt coming to his smile, and in that moment you could see that familial tie between him and Sans with a striking clarity that warmed your heart before you could register his words. “THIS IS AN EXERCISE IN TRUST, IN A WAY – WELL, A LOT MORE SERIOUS THAN THAT, BUT YOU GET MY POINT – SO ONCE I CALL YOUR SOUL OUT... WELL, LET'S LEAVE IT A SURPRISE!”

You heard Undyne from behind Papyrus, her laugh much closer to a cackle than made you quite comfortable. “Papyrus, I like the way you think,” she said.

You exhaled a little heavily, but smiled back up at him, matching his impish grin with a challenging grin of your own.

“ I trust you, Papyrus. Let's go.”

He beamed at you.

“ WONDERFUL.”

A brilliant light flared from your chest at once, electric energy coursing through your veins and lighting your nerves on fire, as if every muscle in your body had fallen asleep and was instantly awakening again, pricking and yet soothed by a rushing warmth. You had to fight to keep from shielding your eyes as the rest of the room began to fade to monochrome colors, all but the light pouring between and from you and Papyrus.

From Papyrus' chest slipped a crystalline-white inverted heart, surrounded with a pulsating orange aura. It drifted forward, no bigger than your palm. The energy in you surged, and you sucked in a breath as an incredible tugging sensation bloomed at the center of your chest, spreading, heating to an almost unbearable degree in split seconds - before releasing all at once.

In front of your chest floated a deeply purple heart.

It pulsed brightly as you took it in with wide eyes. You had no ability to breathe as you watched the rich purple light spill from it with the entrancing light of the warmest of candles. It slowly floated forward, matching the size of Papyrus', but floating rightside up. It stopped a short ways away from his, a hand's span of space left between the two souls. Painful wetness pricked at the edge of your eyes, and your chest felt like it might burst.

“ The first time being drawn for a potential bond... this is not something that is forgettable.” Grillby's voice was all but a whisper from the small circle around the two of you, validating your swirling emotions with an accuracy that you appreciated him deeply for. You took a steadying breath, blinking away the near-tears, gripping Papyrus' hands gently before meeting his gaze.

He nodded, understanding everything you couldn't quite say at the moment. Gently, he leaned forward, bending until his forehead met yours in a tender gesture as you closed your eyes.

You opened them after a few seconds, hands still in his, and nearly let go.

You stood now in a kitchen, awash in warm colors, the distant scent of something tangy tickling your nose.

Papyrus held you by your hands tight and steady, yet still gentle, as your focus shot around the new room. You looked up at him, noting the return of his sly grin.

“ ... Well, I'm relieved that this doesn't seem to be  _ un _ planned,” you said slowly.

In front of you, your soul thrummed with a seemingly happy light. The purple light of your soul blended invitingly with the orange light shining from Papyrus' white soul, and you found your attention torn between the display and Papyrus' gaze.

“ ... THINK OF THIS LIKE A SORT OF... BRIDGE?”

You tilted your head slightly. “... between our souls?'

Papyrus nodded. “PRECISELY! THE POTENTIAL BOND, IN A WAY, OR WHERE IT COULD FORM. THE BOND ITSELF WILL NOT BE A LITERAL KITCHEN. THOUGH,  _ NATURALAMENTE _ , THAT WOULD BE AN EXCELLENT OUTCOME. BUT MAGIC DOESN'T REALLY WORK THAT WAY.”

You chuckled at the near-irony. “But... why a kitchen?”

Papyrus beamed at you. “WELL, TECHNICALLY WE'RE IN OUR HEADS RIGHT NOW. OR RATHER, OUR SOULS, A SORT OF... SHARED SOULSPACE. WHOEVER INITIATES THE PROCESS TENDS TO HAVE A BIT MORE INFLUENCE ON THE APPARENT SURROUNDINGS, BUT GENERALLY THE OTHER SOUL CONTRIBUTES AND FINDS A PLACE OF MEANING TO BOTH PARTIES, SOMETHING SHARED IN SOME WAY OR OTHER, WHETHER IN A PAST SHARED EXPERIENCE OR IN A MUTUAL FEELING. IF THAT MAKES SENSE. I TEND TO FIND HUMANS STRUGGLE WITH SOUL THINGS, SO I'M REALLY HOPING YOU WON'T SUDDENLY FAINT DRAMATICALLY WITH INCOMPREHENSION.”

Your soul flared in time with your laughter, and you felt a lightness in you that you had never quite experienced before. “I seem to be doing fine so far, as you have explained all of this very well,” you assured him.

“ AH, OF COURSE! I AM QUITE GREAT AT A LOT OF THINGS AFTER ALL,” he said, standing a little straighter. You had a feeling it wasn't just the flare of light from his soul lending an orange tint to his cheekbones.

You smiled at him before glancing at your surroundings once more. It was almost sepia in tone, the colors warm and preserved even as you could see the dancing of a flame underneath a large covered pot.

“ So... why a kitchen, do you think?” Before he could answer, you grinned and met his gaze with a shake of your head. “Wait, of course – I  _ am _ standing in front of a master chef, am I not?”

The orange tint deepened. “YOU KNOW EVEN WITHOUT HAVING TRIED MY COOKING!”

You bent in a slight bow, slipping a foot behind you to blend the motion into a slight curtsy before standing straight again. 

He returned your gesture with a boisterous grin and a gentlemanly bow, stepping back for a moment to do so. “FOOD PLAYS AN IMPORTANT ROLE IN CONNECTING WITH OTHERS, I THINK! COOKING AND SHARING MEALS IS EVEN AS IMPORTANT AS MATCHING WITS, _ESO CREO,[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/eso%20creo)_ ” he added with a sage nod as he rose and stepped forward again.

You smiled a little more softly at him, then.

“ I completely agree. You know, Papyrus, even though I don't know you as well yet as I certainly hope I will, I've always admired your warmth,” you said. He openly blushed at that, his expression unintentionally surprised but clearly flattered. Your soul pulsed again, purple light spilling happily between you. “You have such a brilliant mind, and clear skill in what you do, even if I don't know all the details – as a strategist you have an eye for detail that strengthens your incredible grasp of the big picture... and yet all the while, you are so incredibly kind and courageous, and have a way of putting others first to where they don't even question how you've lifted them up and filled them with the same kind of bravery that you shine with so clearly.”

You were leaning forward slightly, the corners of your eyes wet once more. Your chest ached in a beautiful way, and Papyrus' soul was flaring as brightly as yours. His face was tilted slightly as he looked at you in amazement and fondness, the very warmth you had just described written across his face and spilling over to you.

He said your name softly, gently, a call of welcome and utter happiness. “YOU HAVE STAYED SO STRONG FOR SO LONG DESPITE SO MANY CIRCUMSTANCES, AND YOU ALWAYS LOOK OUT FOR US, FOR MONSTERS, FOR ANYONE YOU CAN, AND YOU DO SO WITH A STYLE THAT NEARLY MATCHES MY OWN-” you both couldn't help the somewhat watery laughter shaken from your chest then - “AND I COULDN'T BE HAPPIER TO BE HERE WITH YOU, CANARY.” He squeezed your hands, bending slightly at the waist. “ _AVE CANTORA_ , _COMPAÑERA_... _HERMANA_.[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/hermana)”

He touched his forehead once more to your own, your eyes closing as his did.

“ I WELCOME YOU INTO OUR FAMILY, YOUR STAR JOINING OUR CONSTELLATION, BRIGHT-BURNING AND AT LAST AT HOME.”

A blast of energy echoed from between you and you opened your eyes, meeting Papyrus' gaze once more – and once more standing in the firelit room.

You let out another bright, watery laugh and Papyrus joined you, rubbing his forehead once, twice against your own, affectionate and bright. He stood straight once more and you saw the varied elated and pleased expressions of the monsters surrounding you, chuckling as your cheeks warmed.

At the edge of your vision you saw Papyrus look to Gaster and nod happily, receiving a nod in return.

“ It's me next, you nerds,” Undyne called, stepping next to Papyrus and resting her hands on her hips. She grinned wolfishly at you, sharp teeth on display, and you returned the expression as best you could, only slightly skewed by the lingering flush in your cheeks.

Papyrus passed your right hand to Undyne before stepping back to take her place in the circle. She took it surprisingly gently in her own bare right hand, clasping it as if making a pact with you. Her skin was textured like smoothed scales, cool to the touch and with a hint of the magical buzz you had felt from Papyrus. She scooped up your other hand without missing a beat, mirroring her hold, your arms comfortably crossed, your soul floating in the small space she allowed between them. She stood close to you, smelling faintly of sushi and the saltiness of the sea, not quite as tall as Papyrus but still tall enough to force you to have to tilt your head back to meet her gaze. She too had taken off her jacket, her sleeves rolled to her elbows.

Her sharp grin hadn't let up, but she tilted her head slightly and blinked – no, winked, you realized, despite her eyepatch.

“ Glad I don't have to beat you up for messing with that big softie,” she said. You tilted your own head in return, your grin a little lopsided.

“ From now on, we'll get to take on anyone who messes with him together, won't we?”

You heard a flustered yet pleased noise of dissent behind Undyne. Both of you ignored it, still grinning.

“ Let's see about that,” she said. Her Soul burst out of her chest in a powerful flash of green, blinding you as she held you steady and firm through your clasped hands.

As your vision cleared, you found yourself standing on a beach, post-dusk purples and indigo blues drenching your forms, accompanied by the sound of slightly too-distant waves washing against the sand. Thick clouds hung overhead, the ozone-static promise of rain and thunder to come charging the atmosphere and filling you with a sense of pleased anticipation.

Green and purple souls beat in tandem between you and Undyne, and her sharp grin widened as the feeling of challenge and rightness grew in you.

“ Glad you like the scenery, canary,” she said.

“ I haven't gotten to go to the beach much, in all honesty,” you replied, looking a little wistfully at the waves washing up the shore and peaking just short of your feet. “Once I made it to a place on my own, well... the life of a speakeasy singer isn't much of one lived in the open or out and in the sun.”

Undyne laughed, the sound proud and strong, echoing through your clasped hands straight to your core.

“ I might not have much of a voice like yours to speak with, _cascarrabias_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/cascarrabias) but I gotta say – I've always liked the beach best just after the sun's set,” she said, gesturing in a short flip of her head to the horizon where the richest, warmest purples and near-reds still flared, just barely free of cloud cover. “The masses are gone, and there's something that always fills me up with a whole lotta  determination when I get a moment to soak it all in.”

You squeeze her hands a little harder then, as she had yours. “You know, it kind of reminds me of you, Undyne.”

She looked at you then, her visible brow lifting as she looked back to you, the confused and amused skepticism on her face nearly making you laugh.

You shook your head and smiled, your own brows drawing genuinely as you smiled at her, a pulse in your soul casting deep purple warmth across her features. “Really. The ocean itself – vast and full of life, impossibly so, full of an incredible amount of power that both inspires and brings fear to others,” you said, waggling your brow and making her snort, “and this setting, overall – there's a certain hovering hope, a feeling that it'll end up alright if you let yourself make it so, the promise of a chaotic force of good in the form of rain and thunder and...” your voice softened slightly, eyes bright and knowing as Undyne's eye widened a fraction, the grin on her face smaller even as a bit of flushed color rose to her cheeks. “... and there's a warmth, too, a sense of rightness, a sense of welcoming that may need to be earned but won't be betrayed. You're warm, Undyne, in your Soul – I can feel it, and that vibrant life pouring out of you in every interaction, the clear and vaguely terrifying skills you have only empowered by the odd but unwavering kindness that rests beneath your power.”

Undyne stared at you, her mouth a little open, her cheeks a little flushed, her grip almost easy.

Then, she started laughing, bending over slightly, the sound rough and loud and full of every bit of bright kindness that you had just described even as she nearly pulled you onto the sand as she went down on one knee, her laughter shaking through her lean and muscled body.

Catching her breath, her gaze lifted to meet yours through a messy shifting curtain of her brilliantly crimson hair. “That bonehead wasn't joking when he said that you were observant,” she said. Her gaze softened, her voice a little rougher. “I like you too, canary. That spark in your soul, that sharp eye of yours, and the quick tongue to match – hell, you can even get yourself and us out of a tight spot without much other than that mind of yours and a hell of a lot of perseverance. I'm glad we're getting to spend more time together... though don't get upset when I end up snagging the spot of your _amiga mejor[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/amiga%20mejor)_  from Grillby,” she said, her grin flashing.

You laughed, your cheeks warm. “I think he might put up a fair fight,” you replied, grinning on your end once more as well.

“ Hah! We'll see about that,” she said. She then looked thoughtful, the expression a strange mix of soft and amused and too-sharp on her face at once. “I should warn you, as your up-and-coming best friend… you know how Gaster said earlier that humans aren’t commonly in this kinda bond, and that mess about shared feelings and intent and all that soul-science mouth-flapping?” You nearly snorted at the description, but nodded, curious. “Well… I’ll give you this warning - though family bonds don’t have quite the, uh… constant closeness a soulmate bond has, it’s going to remain consistent that your feelings - and ours, back at you -  are a lot more… readable?” She grimaced, struggling to find the right words. She glanced to the side, brow screwing downwards, before she grunted and shrugged with a grin. “Eh, you’ll figure it out. Just fair warning there is all,” she said - and the look on her face reminded you  _ incredibly _ strongly of the look she gave you and Sans down the hall not long ago. Once again, you had the intense feeling that she had a lot of ammunition levelled towards you, and by the stars did you need to get some back.

All at once then, she tugged on your hands and brought you down into the sand with her. She held your crossed arms up, clasping your hands tight between her chest and yours, and with a shake of your head in recovery at the sudden shift you met her gaze with a glint of your own.

The waves washed just inches from your knees, and you felt more than heard the distant boom of thunder. Your grins matched and your souls pulsed brightly between you.

Her forehead met your own, and she stared fond and piercing into your eyes. “I welcome you into our family, your star joining our constellation, bright-burning and at last at home.”

A blast of energy swelled and exploded outwards. The echo of thunder mixing with the swell of waves faded from your ears as your eyes readjusted to the warm lighting of the firelit room. You were still on your knees, hands clasped in Undyne's, who herself was still on one knee and looking down at you with fierce pride. In a swift movement she pulled you lurchingly upwards.

She released your left hand before sweeping her arm outward, eyes finally leaving you to meet Alphys as she waved her forwards.

“ You'd better take good care of her,” Undyne said, eyes flickering back to you – still warm and proud, but with a twitch to her brow that let you know that she meant it. Your eyes went to Alphys as you settled once more in this reality, catching her wide eyes and the flush below the rims of her glasses.

You fought the sly grin that nearly sprang on your face, opting for the much safer serious yet soft nod in return to Undyne. She eyed you for a moment, but then nodded, gently offering your right hand to Alphys. As she took it in her much smaller one, Undyne stepped away, nodding with a grin to Gaster. You didn't risk looking away from Alphys as she stepped forward.

In a vaguely refreshing change of pace, Alphys was nearly a head shorter than you. Her empty hand fumbled briefly as she pushed her glasses further up her snout. She, too, had no jacket, instead wearing what must have definitely been a custom-made pair of black slacks paired with a cream-colored blouse like your own, the sleeves rolled similarly past her elbows. You were getting more curious about that, but you focused instead on Alphys proper as she took up your other hand in her free hand. Her skin was much, much softer than you had expected – textured like scales as Undyne's was, with the same dulled energy from bare contact that you were starting to get used to, but she was incredibly soft and gentle, almost deft in the way she took your own hands.

“ I-I hope this isn't too odd, considering we just met this morning,” she said, glancing away before meeting your gaze with a sheepish smile.

You smiled back at her. “Honestly, anyone this group trusts like this, I trust too,” you said. “And besides – sometimes, you just  _ know  _ that someone is the right kind of Soul to trust,” you continued.

Alphys stood a little straighter, her cheeks flushing and a fine sheen of sweat on her brow, and only a shy moment passed before a soft pulse of energy and a shining yellow light came from her chest. Her soul drifted outwards, getting close to yours, it's crystal-white surface emitting a sunny yellow before everything around you faded, faded -

And then you were in a room so blindingly lit, you almost couldn't make it out – but after a few extended blinks you managed to, if only just, and what little you knew had you describing it mentally as a laboratory, plain and simple.

You would have left it at that, if not for the comfortable and messy corner of the room piled with books, comics, and what you swore were... figurines carefully arranged next to used, empty bowls that framed a simple, plush couch.

Your gaze went back to Alphys, your brows raised, a grin already slipping past your composure.

She ducked her head, laughing nervously.

“ I'm g-guessing you've seen the pattern of areas, right? S-soul bridging tending to manifest in a place the initiator enjoys that's shared by the joining soul t-to some extent?” She asked, her eyes only meeting yours at the end.

You nodded. “I'm impressed across the board – and in this case, especially so, since I've never even been in – well, I'm guessing this is a lab?”

It was her turn to nod. “I-I'm not as creative as the others, really, so this is actually a place I'm in frequently,” she said, sheepish once more. “And regarding your Soul, it can s-sort of 'agree' on a place it's never been, if the representation of it matches something in the soul itself.” She looked at you curiously then, some of the nerves seeming to lift away without a thought as she studied your Soul with a studious gaze that nearly took you by surprise.

“ You’re not as-?” You look at her, disbelief on your face. Seeing her still flustered and serious, though, you shook your head and lightly squeezed her hands. “Alphys, you are  _ brilliant _ , and that includes being creative. I don’t yet know much of what you do, but even seeing what you were capable of just earlier, sketching an entire diagram of  _ Notte Oscura _ just from my brief descriptions, being trusted by Gaster to be so high in the Core and in its research wing no less - and not to mention if this really is a replica of your lab, then I do believe I see an intriguingly hand-crafted stack of comics and related drawings over by those figurines-”

Her eyes were wide as she frantically glanced back up at you. “ _ N-no, honestamente[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/honestamente) _ \- you’re the amazing one, clearly, the fact alone that your Soul accepted this area is proof that you are brilliant yourself-”

“Ahhh, but by that logic, then you yourself are brilliant in the first place.”

Alphys’ mouth popped open to rebut your statement. Then it closed. Then, again, it opened, and again closed - her brows drew down further each time, and a heavy blush rose on her cheeks. You beamed at her, a little cheeky in the tilt of your lips. Finally, she closed both her mouth and her eyes, shaking her head, a defeated and embarrassed smile spreading on her face.

“You really are clever, aren’t you?” She said, finally peering back up at you. Her cheeks were still flushed with color, the gentle bobbing of your bright souls between the two of you lighting her face. Her soul flashed a stunning gold as she continued. “Y-you’re thorough, observant, curious yet quick on your feet - it’s no wonder that you became the eye for  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ , and even for Gaster and the Core as a whole. There’s something about you, something b-beautiful and radiant, and inspiring. You - well, you  _ persevere _ through it all, through these absurd and terrifying events, staying steady and cunning and holding your own against things that scare most people out of the shadows for good.”

You were blushing now too, and you bent down to get a little closer to her. “Alphys, I am here to tell you the exact same of you,” you replied. Her eyes went to their widest yet, and you could tell she was torn between turning away and hiding and holding onto this moment. You smiled, still a little embarrassed yourself, but you needed her to know this much even with the little time you had spent together. “We don’t know each other well yet - though I suspect you’ve heard a decent few stories about me, I only hope they’ve been the better ones - but I want you to know that I am at my most honest as I say I am honored to have the chance to become close to you.”

A hiccupping laugh escaped her. She finally squeezed your hands back, and stood on her toes as you leant down slightly to butt heads with her. She met your gaze flustered but happy.

“I-I’m quite certain that any story involving you would be a great one,” she said, and you huffed in reply but grinned anyways, your Soul dancing and glowing in front of you alongside hers. “I’m excited to get to know you too, C-canary - if I can call you that-” you nodded in reply quickly and she lit up further- “-w-well! Canary it is, th-then - I’m so excited, I really am. And I’m honored, too…” she squeezed your hands lightly in her small ones, and you could feel the nervous but elated energy in the very light of her Soul. She took a breath, and smiled at you. “I welcome you into our family, your star joining our constellation, bright-burning and at last at home.”

As the light shone brightly and engulfed the two of you, you found yourself suddenly laughing with Alphys as with the light came an overwhelming giddiness and relief, the flustered high feeling infectious between you as once again the light faded and you found yourself in the firelit room with Sans and Grillby chuckling as Undyne whooped. 

“Alphys, stars witness, you did it-!” Undyne cheered as you both managed to quiet yourself. You shot her a grin as Alphys released one of your hands so you could both wipe away the wetness that had gathered at your eyes in your laughter.

“I can only hope that ours goes half as well.”

Grillby now stood next to Alphys, his arms crossed casually, a warm smile on his face. More steadily than up till then, Alphys handed your hand to him, which he accepted graciously and with a slight bow. His hand was firm beneath the electric energy that tickled your hands as his flames slipped against your skin, the magic far more obvious than it had even been with Papyrus. Alphys quickly retreated to the edge of the circle with one last small smile shot back to you, choosing a spot that suddenly became curiously open beside Undyne. You bit down the type of smile that was creeping up your face and instead turned to focus on Grillby.

He was wearing his usual bartending outfit, his sleeves rolled up like the others had done - but his sleeves usually were, and you let your eye catch on the small flames that licked at the edge of the folded material before looking up at him. 

His other hand took yours as he smiled down at you. Inclining his head to your bobbing soul still in front of you, he commented, “Looks like things are going well, no?”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ve got a great crowd to work with, I’d say.”

“I think I speak for at least most of us when I say that the honor is ours,” he replied. He was slightly taller than Papyrus, and you arched your neck slightly to meet his playful and fond gaze. He tugged you closer suddenly and you laughed in surprise as you nearly tripped over your own feet. He released your left hand to loop behind to your back, holding you steadily as if you were about to dance in close quarters. 

Grillby glanced off to the side and caught Sans’ eye. “I’ll be borrowing her for a moment, _viejo amigo,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/viejo+amigo)_ " he said with a crackle of a chuckle. Just as you noticed Sans’ sockets had gone wide a brilliant flash came from Grillby’s chest. You tucked your face down slightly in surprise and felt Grillby’s crackling laugh as the light faded. You looked up, glaring teasingly at him. His laughter continued for it.

You glanced around as his crackling laughter died down, and gasped softly. 

You stood in an enormous enclosed garden, at what appeared to be the very center. A lively and enormous firepit lit up the area, encircled by plush and pillowed seating, a small stream running along the one side of the outer edge pitted seating area. The soft sound of water was dulled and slightly muffled, and your eyes were quickly distracted by the beautiful plants of impossible varieties that surrounded the seating area. Some glowed, some glittered as they shifted in a nonexistent breeze, others sprouted fruits you had never seen, still others were hued in brilliant tones you could stare at for hours. Overhead arched a clear glass ceiling, unique and varied panes separated only by swirling metalwork that formed abstract patterns.

Your gaze fell back to Grillby’s at last, your mouth open in a small ‘o’ and your eyes wide. Delight and disbelief were written clear across your face, and you had a feeling that the twinkle in his eyes was largely due to that very reaction.

“I’m ecstatic that the soul bridge did end up forming here,” he said. His eyes broke from yours for a moment, taking in the slightly muted surroundings.

“So you don’t fully control where it ends up, then…?” You ventured, still at an awestruck loss.

“In a way. My very soul chooses, though I’m quite in tune with myself thankfully. I had a feeling it would end up here, and only hoped your soul would reciprocate and accept.” His gaze returned to yours, the fondness from earlier back in full force. Your eyes dropped for a moment with the swell of emotion that had your Soul spilling over with purple light, mixing beautifully with the red aura that surrounded Grillby’s own inverted crystalline white Soul. It was rich and deep, and when you were able to lift your eyes to his once more you caught him staring at the dancing light of your Souls as well.

“I do believe I’ve found inspiration for another drink… though this one I may not make for open sale at  _ del Alma _ ,” he said. He met your gaze, the yellow-white flames that formed his eyes burning an intense, unfathomable gold. 

You were pretty sure these bonds were going to be the beautiful emotional death of you.

“Well I believe I’ve found inspiration for a new song,” you managed to reply at last, wholly truthful. 

His flames flared upwards before he got them under control. His cheeks burned a pleasing gold too then, and you couldn’t help but wink to him at that.

“ _Siempre_  toe to toe with you,  _ chispita _ ,” he said, the corners of his lava-like mouth turning upwards. “And I do mean that in all the best ways, of course. Sans has chosen well and luckily, I should think.”

You sputtered. “I - ah, well - Grillby, I know you were bound to pick up on that-”

“ _Querido corazón,_ a  _ rock _ could have picked up on you two-”

“- _ and still _ , it means the world to me that you’ve been so… well, supportive,” you managed, faltering. Your face was brilliantly warm, having nothing to do with the literal man of fire who held you close. You both were quiet as you found yourself unable to meet his eyes, your attention almost forcibly under the smooth roll of his flames under your palm where he held your hand.

In the background, the stream trickled on, muffled and soothing.

“... _Estrellita,_ ” he said. You felt his gaze on you, but bit your lip slightly without looking up. He huffed slightly, but there was a tone of good humor to his voice. “I wish nothing more than for your utter happiness - and safety, as much as that can be assured in our lives,” he continued, his voice rolling like the shifting of logs in a low fire. “I still remember when you first came to us - when Mettaton brought you in that night - blindfolded, of course, always the one for dramatics - only to lift it for you when he had you front and center on stage. We all were watching you - how could we not, with the way he nearly broke down the door - and we weren’t particularly hiding it. A human, a human as a performer in our midst, a human there when relations were even more unsteady than they are now, with far fewer humans venturing to our Overtown…”

You finally met his eye again. Light flared between you two as he held your gaze, warm and serious.

“That night, I would swear you shone brighter than even someone like me,” he said. “No band to accompany, no friends there to give you support - just a mostly empty room staffed with monsters setting up for the night, and an eccentric yet famous robot just off the stage. You poured your heart into your song, and filled up the entirety of  _ El Fuego Del Alma _ . Your voice… so strong, yet so low and aching as you dipped into the words. Do you remember what you sang?”

You could almost hear the song weaving along the bittersweet chords as you stood there, hand clasped in Grillby’s. 

“But Not For Me,” you said. A wistful twist shuddered through your soul, the memory fond and with the echo of an old pain. Still you couldn’t help but smile, searching Grillby’s eyes as he looked back at you.

He was quiet for a few more moments.

“ _... They're writing songs of love, but not for me. A lucky star's above… but not for me... _ ” he said, his voice swinging just slightly, just on the edge of rolling with the song itself. You felt your soul catch at his voice, at the lyrics you hadn’t sung since then. He tilted his head towards you. “It wasn’t until you finished singing that I realized I hadn’t moved once since your first note. You captured us all in that moment,  _ chispita _ . I could see, even then, the brilliant Soul you held within, hear the echoes of your kindness and perseverance through things that I have a feeling would haunt even us monsters. You of course went on to sing another standard, and another - but I could see that even Mettaton had been struck fond of you within those very first notes. You have been a part of our family since the start, bond or no.”

The wetness gathering at your eyes was starting to feel all too familiar. You tried to breathe through it all, your Soul flaring in warm, rich purples that cascaded brilliant light to hue into a deep maroon as it mixed with the crimson aura emanating from Grillby’s Soul. “Grillby, I…” your voice hitched, your Soul with it. He gently squeezed your hand as you tried to take a breath. “The fact that you remember, after all this time…” You smiled up at your friend. His flames flickered low and soft, his hue a gentle red that swirled into golden oranges at the edges. “I remember the first time I saw you, as well, do you know that? At the end of that song, I saw you - I nearly jumped, I hadn’t seen any monsters made of flame and, well, being near the alcohol…” You grinned at him, a little sheepishly, a little teasingly. He returned your look with a crackling chuckle. “In fact, you’re the one that inspired me to choose the second song that I sung that night,” you said with a laugh. 

His flames sparked and his eyes went wide. His grin spread in shock and mirth. “You mean-?”

“ _ It's that old devil moon that you stole from the skies, it's that old devil moon in your eyes _ ,” You sung to him, a twinkle in your eyes and your smile pulling at your lips. “ _ You and your glance make this romance too hot to handle-! _ ”

“Even then with that wordplay, you clever little trickster!” He exclaimed, his Soul betraying his delight and amusement. Yours shone with him as you both began laughing. Grillby recovered first, bright pooling licks of flame at the corners of his eyes, to intone to you, “ _ Stars in the night blazing their light - can't hold a candle to your razzle dazzle, _ ” the lyrics quieting your laughter as you simply returned his bright, fond, almost painful smile, your own cheeks stained nearly as red as the edge of his flames.

“I can’t believe my luck in having you as my friend, Grillby,” you finally managed. “Even more so, as I know that you don’t open up to a lot of folk - and being able to banter with you then and even more so now, being able to help you protect  _ del Alma _ , and being able to test all your latest creations - by the stars am I a lucky woman.” 

Another soft huff escaped him, a fond look to the spark in his eyes. “... _Querida_ , what do you think of where we are standing?”

Your eyes skated over the ethereal indoor garden, Soul pulsing happily. “It’s absolutely beautiful. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before, or could even dream of, really - cozy and welcoming and yet almost mysterious, like you could find yourself passing ages here whether with friends or alone and never end up at a loss of something to do or marvel at.”

Grillby’s gaze followed yours, his face turning a bittersweet wistful. You squeezed his hand lightly, waiting.

“I’m sure by now you’ve gathered that monsters age in vastly varied rates. Some have life spans comparable to humans, while others can live for over a thousand years.”

You nodded. While monsters weren’t particularly talkative with humans about this, there was a general awareness - even more so for you, since you spent most of your time around them.

He continued, his eyes grazing over a nearby bed of glowing flowers. “I am one of those monsters that can live for a millenium. I’m still on the younger side for my kind, though depending on the circumstance perhaps that would be disagreed on…” He chuckled, catching your eye. “I see your question,  _ estrellita _ . I am a little over 350 years old.”

No matter how used to monsters you were, that statement had your eyes blow wide.

You tried to recover quickly, your mind running through the math. “Grillby, monsters were trapped under the mountain for three centuries, weren’t they…?”

He nodded. His smile was bittersweet once again. “ _Verdad,_ you catch on quick as always. Yes, we were in the Underground for a little over 300 years… I will add that most monsters do not live for quite so long. It is not uncommon for monsters to live up to 200 years, but… well. There were multiple generations that were born and died under that mountain. Especially for some monsters who have far shorter lives. There are not many of us who remain that were alive for the world before the war. While theoretically quite a number could have outlived the span of time, in the end, the outlook was too…”

Once again, you squeezed his hand. “I… understand. They… Fell Down, didn’t they?”

You had seen and heard of it happening to many monsters within those first two years after they were freed. They had been bursting with hope and joy, and yet the so-called welcome they faced with much of humanity… it had led to a terrible epidemic. In a dark twist of luck, too, it allowed monsters to gain at least a few more legal rights and allowances in governing and regulations, which alongside a few other developments helped drastically decrease the number of monsters who had Fallen.

Grillby sighed, a world of weight upon his shoulders. 

Your Soul ached for him.

“Indeed. I was young at the time - just over 50 - and so I was able to hold onto hope. I had fond memories of the surface, of our lives before things had gone so terribly awry.” He turned his attention fully back to you. His hold on you, his arm looped around your back as he held your hand close, was comfortable and familiar, as if you had just finished dancing the night away with him, your best friend. “This garden is one of my favorite memories from that time. My family was one of a number that lived in close proximity to the Royal Family and other notable members of monster society - we all valued learning and culture and shared time, as is common for monsters. This garden was built and tended to for centuries upon centuries for precisely that reason - monsters of all ages and walks of life would come here, be able to learn about flora from across the lands, share stories of their lives… we would spend time together, sunsets blending into brilliantly starry nights, our Souls beating together in this place.”

His eyes watched you, no doubt catching the gentle throb of your Soul, the maroon hues of light between you two flaring.

“... You remind me so strongly of this place,  _ chispita _ . Your bright eyes, the sure-mindedness of which you seek to grow, and to grow with others… the way your voice and your dancing takes us all on a journey with you, one that you are all the more happier for sharing. How much you have taken on already in this world, and yet the fierceness and love with which you still care and protect those around you, wishing for little more than their continued chance at happiness and life itself.”

Tears were falling down your face once again.

Grillby leaned down, bowing at the waist, his Soul remaining just a short distance from yours. You tilted your face up as he tilted his down, your brows meeting. He burned low and warm against you, his heat like sitting directly next to an open fireplace.

You found your voice again. “Grillby… You have been through so much, and those words will never encompass all you have seen, and all you have become. You have been my most steadfast friend, my confidante, my partner in protection, even my mentor in more than one way. You are a beacon of safety and support for so many, even those with whom you barely share a word. Your determination to make this life better for yourself and those you care for is staggering and I am forever in awe of all that you are, and I will forever remain honored to be a part of your life.”

Sometimes, there weren’t words to describe the emotions you shared with someone. 

Sometimes, there weren’t words that needed to be said, or shared. 

Your Souls danced in tandem between you, spinning soft and slow as unhurried moments passed. 

Grillby’s voice was his low crackle as he found it once more, honor and respect and a smile echoing through his words. “I welcome you into our family, your star joining our constellation, bright-burning and at last at home.”

You closed your eyes and felt your smile rise as the light flared to blinding between you.

Opening your eyes to Grillby once again standing straight and your bodies firmly in the firelit lounge ringed by the inner members of the Core, you smiled brilliantly at him, knowing the fondness you held in your very Soul for him was shining through on your face as well as in the light emitted by the core of your being. 

He returned it.

Then with a smooth glide of his foot he stepped back, bending seamlessly into a bow to press a kiss to your hand. 

“I eagerly await our future as _una familia_ ,” he said, looking up at you with a crooked smile in his flames.

Without missing a beat, he lifted your hand slightly and rose, his eyes sparking with something mischievous as he looked to his side. Your gaze followed his immediately, and your heart nearly skipped a beat.

Sans stood there, slipping his hands out of his pockets. He had a crooked grin of his own on his face, his gaze and Grillby’s locked. 

“ _me alegra[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/me+alegra)..._  you took good care of our canary,” Sans said, his tone easygoing and pleased even as you caught the slightest narrow of his gaze.

Grillby’s smile was spreading. “Only the best of handling can be had for our dear  _ estrellita _ , no? It was a wonderful experience, in all ways,” he said. His tone was as honest as his words, but his grin tilted in teasing.

“good to see that your friendship survived the heat of the bond,” Sans replied. He shrugged his jacket off slowly, almost lazily, his eyes closing.

“I’m sure you know about that sort of heated potential quite well,” Grillby replied.

Sans’ grin twitched. Still, he finished shrugging off his jacket, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

His frame filled out his shirt as well as it had his jacket, and the word  _ magic  _ slipped through your mind once again before utter distraction had your focus on him wholly once more. He tossed his jacket behind him without looking, his aim dead on so that Papyrus caught his jacket without having to take a step.

He opened his eyesockets as he began speaking once more. “i’ve been under  _ fire _ often enough to know how to handle myself,” he said with a hitch to his grin, winking at Grillby then who huffed out a chuckle. Sans’ eyes refocused then on you. One crimson glove met the end of the other sleeve, and he flicked the button at his cuff undone without breaking eye contact with you. “it’s easy to get  _ burned _ , but with a deft  _ hand _ …” he rolled up his sleeves in the work of a moment, then undoing his other sleeve and rolling it up similarly. His bones were thicker than Papyrus’, sturdier in a strange sort of way, blending smoothly and interlocking with the bones at his elbow and what you could see of his upper arm just under the edge of his rolled sleeve. “... you can get the job done, and well.” He lifted his right hand to his face, and held your gaze as his teeth parted. Your eyes managed to flicker down as he bit the tip of one finger of the glove and tugged, sliding his hand free. He tucked the glove into his pocket, then repeated the action with his left hand.

A clean, shadow-rimmed hole pierced through his left palm, just as one had shone through Papyrus’ right.

“...  _La trataba bien,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/la+trataba+bien)_ _”_ Grillby said, amusement in the wry twist to his grin but a deadly serious flicker to the flames of his eyes.

Sans’ eyes broke away from yours to meet with Grillby’s. He lifted his right hand, extending it towards where Grillby still held your left. “ _a la luz estelar,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/a+la+luz+estelar)_ ” he replied, a heavy look in his own eyelights. 

Their eyes locked for a few moments more, and then Grillby lifted your hand just slightly and passed it to Sans with a nod. The difference in energy was shocking - you assumed that physically presenting so clearly of pure magic to maintain his flames, Grillby’s touch would have the highest buzz of energy to the touch. 

You were so very, very wrong.

Your eyes slipped closed for a moment as the roll of buzzing and utterly  _ alive _ energy shot through your hand and echoed through your body, threatening to send you reeling. You breathed in carefully through your nose as you simply let yourself  _ feel _ his magic resonating so strongly with you. Slowly, the feeling lessened and dialed down until it was once again most present as an inviting warmth against your hand.

You opened your eyes again then, meeting his gaze with a soft parting of your lips.

He looked like restraint was merely a frayed cord threatening to snap under the weight of his gaze and the meeting of your hands alone.

Distantly, you remembered the presence of the other monsters around you, despite their intense quiet only broken by the sound of the fireplace. Your mind worked far faster than your body and Soul in that moment, and urged you to distract yourself. Against your will, you shifted your gaze to his left hand.

He watched as you took in the curiously matching and mirrored hole through his palm in his other hand. Grillby stepped away at last and back towards the circle, an amused flicker to his flames from the way the light shifted.

Sans held his palm up for you to see, wiggling his fingers with a smirk on his face. You huffed as a grin pulled at your features, but leaned slightly closer to look. Like Papyrus’, the bones of Sans’ hand interlocked and smoothly shifted together as if plated at the joints, working uninterrupted around the hole in his hand. The edges of the hole appeared a black darker than what you thought possible, something that drew your gaze in, holding onto your attention in much the way it let no light reflect off of it…

“feeling  _ hole- _ ly distracted, are we?”

Your eyes snapped to him, your grin a little sheepish as your face flushed slightly. 

In front of you, your Soul pulsed brightly, shifting your gaze again and making you flush  _ deeply _ .

You muttered a curse under your breath as Sans looked like, well-

“You can stop looking like the cat that caught the canary,” you grumbled, unable to completely pull down the upturning of your lips.

“ah, but it suits you, doesn’t it?” he replied with an even cheekier grin.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his shoulder with your free hand. He caught it a split second later, the bones of his fingers intertwining with yours as the lights in his eyesockets went a little soft around the edges. Your Soul pulsed again and you flushed at the gesture, at registering that you were feeling his hands bare for the first time.

It felt incredibly… intimate.

Sans’ face was shading a brilliant blue as your Soul brightened further, even if the shit-eating grin remained on his face. 

From the edge of the circle, a small clearing of a throat that didn’t exist. “Sans… I shall take this moment to remind you…” Gaster’s voice sent a shiver up your spine as you felt the darkness curl inward around your circle. He waited until Sans’ eyelights flicked to focus on him.  “... Well. Remember  _ what type _ of bond this is, won’t you? We do not need complications.”

Sans’ face threatened to turn a midnight blue as he fought a scowl.

“you got it, boss,” he managed after a moment.

You squeezed his hands then, the lightest pressure against the nearly immovable surface of his bones. 

His gaze returned to you and before you could register the mischievous flash of his eyes and returning grin, he bent you in a smooth dancer’s dip and pressed his forehead to yours. 

The flash of light from his chest was blinding, and to your intense relief kept the giddy laugh from escaping you at his sudden move.

Your eyesight returned slowly, with several blinks to clear it, and you found yourself still held in Sans’ sturdy arms, his face hovering over yours as he held you securely in dip.

“i gotta say,  _ pajarita _ , i really love that color on you,” he murmured. You felt your Soul leap in front of your chest, a gentle and muted awareness of your very self.

“What color?” You replied, just a little breathless.

His grin spread. “all of ‘em, to be honest,” he said and you nearly snorted with an all-too-flustered twist to your own grin, “but i’m particularly fond of that shade you’ve got on your cheeks right now.”

… the shade became a little darker.

“that one too,” he added, feigning serious consideration before winking at you. You opened your mouth to reply but remembered just how close his face was, and thought about just how effectively you could get him back for that flustering-

He lifted you out of the dip then, leaving his left hand resting on your hip as your slipped to rest against his upper arm. Your left hand and his right hand remained joined, your palms sliding together for a moment as you both shifted to intertwine your fingers. The strange energy you felt before buzzed gently against your hand still, and you could feel the hint of the same sensation at your hip where his hand rested.

“... we _do_ have to be... careful,” he said, his voice a little rough, a little low. You felt his energy buzz against you - no, wait…

“So that is… wait… is that  _ really  _ your magic, simple and raw?” You said, realization dawning on your face at the actual implications of the buzzing feelings as you pulled your intertwined hands a little closer for better inspection. 

He chuckled, the sound traveling right down your spine. “yeah, direct contact with a monster like me can give you a bit of a  _ buzz _ ,” he said, squeezing your hand lightly, a spike of his magic sending warm tingles through your hand.

You found that you really liked the feeling. 

The corners of your lips rose of their own accord as you looked back to him. “Sans… that… that is so  _ incredible _ ,” you replied. His brows lifted slightly, even as his grin grew. “Magic, magic that can be sensed even with just a touch… stars, is it because you’re that powerful? Or is it a skeleton thing? Can you control it that well, and how difficult would that be? I’m imagining the bare touch for bonding makes it easier to activate the magic needed to establish a bond… Oh, maybe it’s monsters in general you can feel it like this more with, who have to have that more obvious bond of magic present in order to move, as in the case of you and Papyrus since you’re skeletons, and Grillby as fire-”

“canary,” he said. You paused for a moment, the sound of his voice catching your full attention. His eyelights were soft on you, fond amusement echoed in his eyes. “you sure can  _ chirp  _ a good theory, can’t you?”

“Have to, to keep up with the way magic’s rules seem to fall along the lines of  _ winging it _ ,” you shot back, matching his lopsided grin.

“what, you tryin’ to  _ beak _ me at my own game?”

“Hey, I’ve used that one before!” You began to break down into laughter, trying to fight the feeling, a teasing accusation in your eyes. He shrugged, winking at you.

“all’s fair in puns and war,  _ dulzura _ ,” he replied. “besides, had to get us back on track somehow.”

Your brow lifted.

He chuckled, his gaze heavy on yours. “can’t risk you _jumping_ _my bones_ , not here,” he answered to your unspoken question.

Your mouth opened to return the tease but your eyes broke for a moment from his, glancing to catch your surroundings.

Any previous comeback slipped away from you as all you could manage was an awed “ _ Sans. _ ”

He chuckled, and you could hear the wicked and warm grin in his voice.

You stood on a small deck, an offshoot of a bridging wooden path that emerged from and wound back into a dense forest behind you. In front of you was - was everything. Your eyes were wide as they grazed over the tops of ancient trees heavy with the deep green of the apparent midnight that stretched above you, distant stars twinkling in the muted sky. Nearly two-thirds of the way up what you realized was Mt. Ebott itself, you could see the town just a small ways away from the base of the mountain, and towards the horizon was the distant moonlit shimmer of the ocean’s shore.

Sans guided you forward with a shift of his weight and a press of his hand at your hip and you followed wordlessly, until you both stood against the railing, the distant collection of the world in the bridge between your Souls having stolen your breath from you.

It was the gentle flash of Sans’ Soul that finally broke the awed silence you had fallen into. A soft cerulean light pulsed once again from his crystalline white Soul as your gaze turned to it.

“I suppose my best response to that is ‘me too’,” you said, a smile on your lips as you looked at the swirling light between your souls. They blended together like the dawn mixing into the day, like the lining of the galaxy blending light and darkness that shone through an impossible distance.

You looked up at Sans, only to catch him already staring at you.

“I’m starting to think I’ve got something on my face,” you said, teasing even as your Soul flashed in happy betrayal.

“you do,” Sans said without missing a beat.

Your brows shot up and you went to lift the hand that still intertwined with his, but he held on a little tighter, the buzz of his magic sending pleasant goosebumps up your arm.

“What-”

“the light of your beautiful Soul,” he said. He shrugged nonchalantly even as his grin twitched, your face lighting with heat and with the intense light your Soul suddenly emitted. “can’t help but stare when i see something so _hermoso_ lit in that kinda way.”

His expression was as if he had just commented on the weather, though the twinkle in his eye was showing  _ every _ inch of delight he was taking in your fluster.

Finally, you groaned and let your head fall forward, thumping against your joined hands you lifted to catch and slightly hide your face.

“... I may have underestimated how smooth you can be,” you mumbled. The corners of your mouth wouldn’t pull back down as you stared at the dancing of your and Sans’ Souls between your chests.

“a bit of a dangerous mistake,” he said. You could feel the shaking of his shoulders in poorly-suppressed laughter through his hand.

“I do believe I’m finding that out,” you replied with a huff.

With a steadying breath and a shake of your head, you lifted your face again. 

“never a dull moment,” he said. His grin had only widened once again. The crinkle of amusement at the corner of his eyesockets suited him too well.

“Not with you,” you agreed. From the look in his eyes, you had a feeling he thought the same of you.

He shifted a little then, his eyelights flickering down to your Soul , then back to your eyes again. His eyes searched yours, not invasive, but genuinely curious, puzzling, sharp. “... i’ll admit my curiosity, here, said and done - what under the stars possessed you to venture into the monster districts in the first place,  _ pajarita? _ ”

“Mmm. Well… I think you know pretty well at this point how…  _ unkind  _ humans can be,” you said, slowly. Part of you hoping that would be enough.

He simply nodded.

You searched his eyes in return.

With his Soul steady and bright in front of you, you knew well there was nothing of ill intent or distrust there. 

You would have known even without his Soul out, you had a feeling.

“... Do you recall how I mentioned that I moved to the city when I was of schooling age?”

His nod was barely needed. He was too observant to forget something like that.

You glanced away, towards the horizon lined by the sea. “Well, that was when I started having to learn how to… pick up on things. To have an eye for moods, body language… for movements that would telegraph certain kinds of action.”

You didn’t look back, even as you felt his body go slightly more rigid against yours.

“Funny, isn’t it?” You said, your voice terribly steady. “How the very sort of things that drove me from humans are what gave me the skills to be of value to monsters.” Out of habit, the corners of your mouth turned upwards for a small moment before dropping again. “The anger won’t leave, though. Not towards humans. Monsters… I might’ve been wary of close relationships for a good long while, but honestly? Not a one’s done me any serious harm.” You laughed dryly. “Sure, a few pickpockets, the occasional con attempt, and I certainly don’t get along on a personal level with everyone - who  _ does _ \- but… never, never anything like I’ve seen humans do have I seen a monster even  _ try _ .”

“canary…”

You looked back to Sans, something unfathomable in his eyes. You took a moment, trying to parse it out.

“... Oh, I know it wasn’t my fault for what happened, don’t get me wrong,” you told him. His brow bones drew downwards. “It took a while, but I got there. I mean, who can blame a kid for being at the wrong end of the belt? For sneaking out when things got so bad that she just wanted to lose herself in the stars, if only for a few hours?” You looked away again.

He was silent with you for a few moments before he found further words. “i know it’s not that easy, but... why didn’t you leave sooner?” Sans ventured.

Your head shook before you could think about it. “We were already in the city by then. Even before I turned 18… well, let’s just say that I was all too aware of how bad it was for young girls on the streets. Barely made it out of making that mistake once. I was helped that time, thankfully, by a girl who had been out there too long herself. Never even caught her name, or got a proper look at her in the dark of the alley, before she ran away at the sound of a distant whistle...” Your eyes closed. “So… I made my way back and did my best. They didn’t even notice I had disappeared that night. I bode my time, taking what precautions I could to stay out of the way. I met that girl again - happenstance, caught her crossing by from the fire escape late one night nearly two years later, and before I could stop myself I had called out to her. Whistled, actually - that same pattern I heard that one night. She looked up, seemed to recognize me in return. Didn’t talk much, except to tell me not to whistle like that.” You opened your eyes, your gaze unfocused on the steady pulse of your Soul. “I hounded her about it, that night, when she didn’t leave right away - till she gave me a different pattern with a reluctant sigh. About two weeks later, I saw her passing by again, a little more slowly, so I whistled - and she stopped in the alley below. I couldn’t jump down, but she talked with me, just a little, never really revealing anything about herself outside of the fact that she had been on the streets for years. Told me I’d never survive, in fact,” you said with a dry chuckle. “Took that as a challenge. Because… well, by the stars, I  _ wanted _ to. Wheedled her into teaching me some self defense, in the end. It went on like that for the better half of a year - never could jump down, she swore she’d run if I did, and I didn’t want to risk having trouble getting back up, but she’d show up and teach me a few more things. Sometimes it’d be a few days in a row, then weeks would pass…”

Low and curious, Sans spoke again. “... what happened?”

You looked at him. “You, actually.”

His brow bones rose, then furrowed slightly.

You huffed a single laugh. “More generally, I mean.  _ Monsters _ happened. I hadn’t seen her at all that first week, then suddenly, there she was, waiting in the alley.” Your eyes went slightly distant in memory. “She said that she needed to go, and not to look for her anymore. That she almost didn’t come at all at that point, but…” your lips twisted, “she said she knew me well enough to know that I’d have been more stubborn than that. Said that it was dangerous then, for people like her, and she had to disappear. To take care of myself… and to make good use of what she taught me.”

“... people like her.”

You nodded, mind drawn back towards the present. “Yeah, I never quite knew what she meant. I hoped - still do - that she meant she supported monsters and found trouble for it, compared to the alternative, considering the timing… but I can’t say for sure.” You frowned.

He studied your face, not resisting your quiet.

“... I had done a good job till then, actually. Hadn’t done anything too suspicious whenever things became… violent. My  _ parents _ didn’t seem to suspect a thing. My mother stayed drunk, my father stayed… angry. But when monsters came up…” Your frowned deepened. “I thought their words were hateful beforehand. They were…” 

Your voice wavered, and your gaze rested on Sans’. You barely noticed as your Soul dimmed and stilled.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip on your hip tightened slightly. You bit your lip.

Shame washed through you.

“stop.”

Your eyes widened.

“ _lo digo en serio_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/lo+digo+en+serio?d=0)” he said. He said your name, firmly, but soft. “whatever they did… it doesn’t reflect on you. they are their own people - _mierda_ or otherwise - and not your responsibility.”

You laughed once, hard and low and joyless. “ Aren’t they, though? I should have stood up to them, should have told them to step down, to actually think for once-”

“after they had been  _ beating you _ for most of your life? and doing stars knows what else?” 

His voice became a growl.

“no. canary, i mean it when i say that intent matters as well as impact when it comes to action. And the fact that once you were on your own you’ve done damn near but solely act in ways to help monsters?  _ that  _ has the most weight.”

You grimaced, unable to find the words to fight him on that. His thumb shifted, rubbing small circles on your hip.

“canary, you do not speak for all of humanity. in fact, you’ve done a pretty damn good job trying to take care of monsters as a damn  _ whole _ in spite of the increasing danger, and that says a lot about you.”

You stayed quiet. His thumb continued it’s gentle movement. He waited.

Finally, you let go of the breath you had been holding, and looked back up at him. “... Well then, what does it say about me that a week after you were freed, I snapped and tossed my father over my shoulder when he made a clumsy lunge at me...?”

His eyesockets shot wide. “you didn’t.”

A slight upturn to your lips. “I did.”

“fuck yes,” he replied, wicked amusement in his tone.

You snickered. “Thanks, bonehead. Yeah, I…” you took a breath. “Well, he wouldn’t stop, and was turning on me at the same time… that moment he hit the ground felt like an eternity. Everything froze - he didn’t even move for a few seconds, he was so shocked. Then all at once, I was hit with reality and knew there was no turning back. I sprinted to my room and he close to  _ roared  _ as he recovered, but I had already grabbed my bag with what little I had and my coat and was out the fire escape by the time he had stumbled to his feet. I took off running and… I never went back,” you admitted. 

“and somehow ended up on the monster side of town,” Sans said, the pride and righteous mirth still in his tone despite the concern and frustration you recognized in his gaze.

“If it could be called that yet,” you amended, grimacing once more. “I’m sure you remember - it was mostly shock and anti-monster sentiment that cleared out enough space for some of you to move in at that point - since little to no time had passed, nothing had been built up yet. I spent a lot of time on the border lanes of the areas, picking up what work I could, earning more than a few welts for scaring some punks away from monster kids,” you added.

“you’ve been our  _ estrellita  _ from the beginning.”

Your brows rose, a familiar blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, hardly. I... I can’t lie and pretend that some of those times I didn’t  _ have  _ to fight, to protect my own skin-”

“we all do, sometimes,” Sans cut you off. “i mean, the world aboveground… certainly doesn’t make it easy to be any kind of guardian angel or righteous Soul at all times, y’know.” A dark look passed through his gaze for a moment, but he shook it off. “it’s safe to say that you’re one of the good ones - for  _ all _ monsters. but for us, in the Core? you’re the best there is.”

“I want to call horseshit on that, but with the way your Soul’s shining...” you trailed off, your inability to doubt him in this place clear. Your Soul was throbbing happily in tune with your heart, as cerulean light shone from Sans’ Soul brighter yet. 

He grinned, the look pleased, delighted, and wolfish all in one.

“now you know what we mean when we say your Soul shines true,” he shot back with a wink. 

His cheekbones were stained as blue as yours were red.

You were finding it very hard to not pull that little bit closer to him.

Your tongue wet your lips unconsciously, drawing his flashing gaze to your mouth. “So… what would happen if we did… get a little too close in here…?” You managed to ask. Your gaze slipped in turn to his mouth, parted just enough to show his sharp canines. With difficulty you lifted your eyes to his.

That magnetic feeling seemed to be mutual.

You felt his voice rumble through you at every point of contact, your hands intertwined, his left hand at your hip, your right on his arm, the brushing of your hips together. 

“... remember how i explained the other types of bonding?”

You nodded. Your teeth teased at your lower lip, utterly beyond your control.

His hand at your hip twitched.

“if we… got closer…” he continued, his gaze capturing yours wholly then, “inevitably, our souls would react, and they would… touch. that would - _estrellas ayuda me_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Dios+me+ayude) the way you’re  _ looking _ at me,” he swore suddenly. 

Your eyes shot open wider from what you realized had been a heavy lidding. His hands tugged you closer at your hips, careful to not pull your chest closer even as your Souls appeared to be torn between two forces, as if the same poles of a magnet were being pushed together. You felt the duality echo through you and steal your breath away, tearing your gaze to look at your Souls radiantly blazing, the light pooling and spilling between the cartoonish hearts. 

Sans’ knuckle brushed at your chin, his fingers still folded with yours, startling you from your unintentional reverie. He held his hand there, yours twisted with his, your Soul all but throbbing with your quickening heartbeat. His face was so, so close to yours.

“you have no idea how badly i want to pull you against me,  _ pajarita _ ,” he growled. “how badly i want to feel those soft lips of yours on my bones, to trail my bare hands against your skin, to feel the hairs rise and your heartbeat speed as i steal your breath away and you steal mine. how badly i want to press you against this railing, to see how quick on your feet you are when i sweep you off of them…”

You tried, rather unsuccessfully, to remember how to breathe.

His voice lowered, just a fraction more, his voice nearly a whisper.

“... how badly i want to hear you scream my name, to show you the kind of passion i can meet you with, the kind of pleasure i can bring you… to feel our souls against one another. i want to drive you as mad as you drive me, in every damn beautiful and wonderful way that you’ve done to me since the beginning.”

Your hand tightened in his, your other slipping to grip at his shoulder as you found your voice.

“You’re in for a challenge if you think I’ll fold that quickly,” you replied, almost selling it if not for the breathy quality of your voice and the way you couldn’t help but glance at his mouth.

“ _ bending _ ’s certainly one thing i have in mind, _descarada_ ,[*](-)” he shot back, his grin wolfish. “i’d want nothing else than to see what precisely you can give me…”

“I’d say you may just be in for the ride of your life, Sans,” you said.

“ _por favor_ ,” he said, hardly a tone of request - but the  _ hope _ in his voice nearly floored you even as the heat rose to new levels within you.

Stars, where to even start - “... Sans, I-” 

He closed the last of the distance between you, his eyes closing and his forehead meeting yours in an intimate gesture that mirrored the others’.

“...for now, though…” he sounded nearly pained as he drew a steadying breath. “...don’t worry about that. oh, don’t get me wrong - it’s all true,” he said, his tweak of a grin sparking something giddy in you, as his eyes opened and his eyelights levelled more seriously on your own gaze, “but i also want you to know that there’s nothing ‘just’ about what i like about you, canary. not ‘just’ liking, not ‘just’ friends, not ‘just’... lust. we both live lives _jodido_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/jodido) and i’ll admit i have a feeling i’d face one hell of a fight if i tried to act like i oughta shield you from it,” he continued, a grin spreading a little wider at the end.

You barely bit back a snort amidst your blushing. You bumped your forehead once against his before settling again. “You’re damn right, bonehead. I’m not anything that needs saving, even as much as I want to protect you and everyone else. I want to do that as equals,” you emphasized.

“good to know we’re on the same page,” he replied with a wink. His grin grew sharper even has his eyelights softened. “so i’m going to take you out proper, and we’ll be able to… focus on us. somewhere our souls aren’t a little too honest and… tempting.”

“You say that as if you aren’t tempting on the regular,” you managed to reply as you tried to ignore the delighted sparking of your Soul below.

“i’ll repeat - you do  _ not _ make this easy.”

He looked anything but upset about it.

“From the sounds of it, I might make something particularly  _ hard _ .” You winked at him even as you would have sworn you heard your own screaming in your mind. Your face felt hotter than Grillby’s own fire.

… But stars, the look on his face was  _ worth it _ .

He made a strangled sort of noise. “i’m gonna have you swallowing those words-” 

His eyes shot wide as his mouth snapped shut. 

The blue flared on his face as his words tumbled out of his mouth at once. “wait, i mean- _joder_ -”

You burst into laughter, and he stared at you. The sound was bright, unrestrained, and in utter disbelief - he had actually made an  _ unintentional _ pun, by the stars, and your eyes screwed shut as tears gathered at the corners as you caught his blush spread wider and the look of utter  _ loss _ on his face in response to your unrestrained laughter.

Then, he chuckled. It was low, and almost shocked. The sound grew, and soon you were both holding onto one another like a lifeline, foreheads still touching as you laughed until your sides hurt.

“I- I don’t think I’ve ever heard you  _ unintentionally _ pun-!” You managed to say between desperate breaths and laughter.

“i don’t remember the last time it even happened,” he replied between his own laughs, an inexplicable pooling concentration of blue at the corners of his eyesockets. 

“Looks like I might be the one sweeping you off your feet,” you said, teasing.

“i’ll take that challenge,” he shot back.

You both were finally quieting, managing to regain your breath and rising a little, your foreheads parting for a moment as you both grinned at one another. Sans bumped his forehead against yours once again, then, resting there.

“our lives - monster’s lives - can be so long, depending on the hand you’re dealt. but in this kind of world, they’re proving to be shorter than not… i don’t want to waste time pretending otherwise when time’s the one thing we can never be sure of.” His gaze held yours, the light atmosphere settling heavy but warm around the two of you.

“The future’s never anything to be sure of… but we can take it head on. And I’d wager that we have good odds,” you said. His grin widened again at that, and you winked at him before continuing. “Sans, you’re… incredibly strong. Literally, of course, but also in your… well, your Soul, I suppose. You keep such a close eye out for those you care for, you know how to wait for the right moment with a kind of clever patience I’m certain I could never match. You’re quick on your feet even in times of danger and stress, to say nothing of your wit…” you grinned. “Outside of anything else I may feel, I’m honored to be able to become close with you and your family. I will do everything in my power to protect you all, to live up to what you all need, to be as there for you all as you already have for me.”

“the feeling’s mutual, canary - in more ways than one,” Sans replied. He huffed a chuckle. “it’s not coincidence that we’ve taken to calling you by the nicknames we have. you’re constantly a source of bright light and fiery inspiration for us all and i’m… proud, i’m proud that we can come together like this.”

You wondered if your Soul could burst with these feelings as it nearly blinded you with the light your tumbling emotions were causing to spill out of your Soul alongside Sans’.

He closed his eyes, his voice dropping to a near-whisper once more, his hand squeezing yours as his other pulled you a fraction closer by your waist. 

He whispered your name like a promise.

“... i welcome you into our family, your star joining our constellation, bright-burning and at last at home.”

Your eyes closed as your cheeks ached with your smile. Light blazed behind your eyelids as you focused on the feeling of Sans’ hand against yours, your foreheads resting against one another.

A crackle of a laugh brought you back into the moment.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Grillby said, a tinge of amused laughter in his tone. “Cut that a little close, didn’t you, Sans?”

Sans lifted his head, his eyelights rolling as he chuckled.

“control’s my middle name, Grillbz.”

“NO IT’S NOT.”

“details, details.”

You bit back a laugh at the way Papyrus’ hands on his hips framed his pretending-to-not-be-amused profile. Sans was grinning again, and to his incredible credit didn’t jump an inch when Gaster suddenly spoke at his back.

“It is pleasing to know that you retain your ability to restrain yourself,” he said. Your face tilted up to look at him as you recovered from your latest dizzying wash of emotion, towering as Gaster was behind Sans. Darkness folded around his impeccable suit like second nature, drawing your eye ever more readily to him. 

Sans squeezed your hand as he laughed once. “it wounds me that you were ever in doubt, boss.” 

He caught your eye for a moment, something in his motion able to pull your attention from Gaster. He searched your eyes, then nodded. You squeezed his hand in turn.

“I would argue that your insistent wordplay makes it all too easy to doubt your restraint.”

Sans stepped to the side, maintaining his hold on your hand for a few more moments as his hand slipped from your hip so he could step to the side. Gaster stepped forward into his place, the closest you’d ever been to him, closer even than that first night you met him and he had circled you in undisguised critical observation. This was proving to be a habit of his as he stood there in front of you, his sockets narrowing slightly, almost professionally curious. 

Something to the slightest tilt of his mouth had you doubting the professional aspect of that last part, though.

Then he rolled his shoulders back, slipping out of his jacket before your eyes could register the glitch of a smooth movement.

“on the plus side, we’re already criminals, so it’s not something i’ll be  _ sentenced _ for.”

Gaster deposited the jacket on Sans’ head without a glance. It was covered in blue a split moment before making contact, and shifted to fall to rest over his free arm, revealing an unaffected grin.

Gaster was wearing a longsleeved turtleneck once again, one you hadn’t seen before, a stark crimson that matched the shirts of Sans, Undyne, and Papyrus. It was slim cut, dark and imposing with what you realized were his naturally broad shoulders and chest down to his lean hips. The shadows of the stitching were teeming with the glitching darkness you were growing too accustomed to. His gloves were his standard crisp, cream colored leather, and you watched as he lightly tugged free the fingers of one hand before slipping it off and repeating the action with his other hand.

You swallowed your reaction as you recognized the holes that shot through both of his palms.

You felt his unwavering gaze on you as his hands shifted to roll the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbow.

You thanked the stars for your practice in controlling your expression under performance pressure as his hands, made of seemingly fused and plated bone like Sans’ and Papyrus’, slipped up to his wrists and simply pushed the material to his elbows with a blase and practiced attitude that almost surprised you.

His forearms started at the wrist still skeletal, but they began to blend and mold into one piece far sooner than they should, gradually becoming colored with a darkness that was nothing less than  _ alive _ . His elbows were a deep black that you could only imagine encompassed the rest of his arms.

His hand extended to Sans. Rather, actually, it extended to your hand still held by Sans. Without turning his face from yours, Gaster’s single eyelight flickered its focus to him.

A single beat passed before Sans gently passed your hand to Gaster’s. He gave you a steady look as he did so, something deep passing in the dark of his eyesockets.

You took a deep breath as subtly as you could. His eyes softened, and he nodded.

Gaster’s hand took yours in a genteel hold, your palm resting just over his. Sans stepped back to the circle as Gaster took intriguingly gentle hold of your other hand as well. 

“Your Soul is proving to have excellent stamina,  _ tormentita _ ,” he commented. His voice rolled like static over you, and your Soul jumped slightly as he spoke.

You tried to ignore the twitch to his mouth as it did.

“Thank you… I think,” you replied, your eyes narrowed a little. 

Gaster’s mouth twitched again.

“Indeed.” His gaze rested on your Soul while yours rested on his face, looking for any betrayal of thought outside of that damned smirk.

His gaze moved to yours.

“Well then,” he said.

A light from his chest sparked into blinding whiteness, forcing you to close your eyes.

The sound of static roared around you, nearly deafening you just as the light had blinded you. You clutched Gaster’s hands tighter without thought, feeling as if the sound roaring around you and light behind your eyelids could rip you away from him. You felt dragging weight on your limbs, your shoulders, around your waist, your neck, pulling you down and away-

“You may open your eyes, now.”

Instinctively, you followed his implicit order. 

The weight was gone, as was the light, and only the distant echo of white noise rung in your ears. The deep purple aura from his Soul drew your eyes to your Souls swaying weightless between you. His shone slightly down on you, having drifted to the bottom of his chest to be closer to yours, which had slipped to the level of your sternum. The blending of the nearly identical richly purple hues cast an alluring light on your hands resting in his.

Through the light, then, you saw his inverted soul, crystalline as the others had been…

Crystalline black.

It shone darkly in the purple of his own Soul’s aura, glittering an obsidian that at its core was so black it seemed to pierce through reality and perception itself.

Your Soul pulsed in response to the sudden wash of feelings tearing through you.

At last, you turned your face upwards towards Gaster’s. His gaze was already on you, as you had no doubt it had been the entire time. His expression was nearly blank but for the appearance of a measured, almost distant interest.

Words were hard to find.

“... Does it hurt?” You settled on at last.

By a fraction of an inch, his brow bones drew upward.

“... Not as one would say, no,” he replied. 

You released the small breath that had found itself caught in you. He continued to watch you.

“It’s not normal, however,” you continued. It was a statement, hung for him to take if he wished.

“Astute,” he said. 

Well, he seemed to prefer taking things on his own terms, in any case.

“And I… don’t suppose it has anything to do with the holes in your palms… and Sans’ and Papyrus’ right and left?”

One brow bone rose higher.

You left that inquiry out as well, refusing to step back in body or gaze.

“... Do you know what your human miners use to detect imminent danger while deep within the caves of this world?”

His question was placed as easily and readily as your own. You resisted the urge to tilt your head as you considered him carefully.

“In what way?” You asked, slowly. “Of mine collapses, or-?”

“I believe the most common is the particular natural gaseous form of carbon monoxide.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. There was a tick to his deep glitch of a voice that you only just picked up on.

Quickly, you thought of what he was referencing, while rolling that sound in his voice in your mind, and then-

Your facial features dropped, unimpressed.

“A canary,” you answered.

His mouth twitched.

You continued, cocking one hip slightly to the side despite yourself. “They use canaries, brought with them in little cages as they go about their mining. If the canary drops dead without warning, they leave quickly - as the canary will die extremely quickly from carbon monoxide, where they have just enough time at that point to get out before they black out.” Your own brow slides upward as you allow a moment to pass before speaking again. “... I see what you did there. You know, you could always simply tell me that it’s none of my business.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, my dear,” he replied. One corner of his mouth had pulled upward just enough to settle a smirk on his features.

“Not enough for you, I would wager,” you said, keeping as little sarcasm in your voice as possible.

You also fought the upward pulling of your own lips.

You managed to break your gaze with him to help yourself reign in any reaction that would satisfy him further to look around.

You promptly swore.

All around you was nothing but utter black. It looked as if you stood on nothing, as if nothingness itself held you up yet down, no direction having any apparent meaning whatsoever, in the end.

“Even now, it remains nothing more than a void,” Gaster said simply as you recovered and resisted the instinct to cling to something solid - the only option here being him, which brought you back to yourself quickly.

His voice was soft, and pulled you further from your brimming question and uncertain horror. You couldn’t quite turn your face fully back, but your eyes focused sharply, curiously on him. His gaze appeared to be fittingly nowhere in the void, the single eyelight he normally showed having disappeared.

You waited.

In a brief flash of purple in time with a beat of his Soul, his eyelight returned, trained on you. 

He remained silent, however. Waiting in turn. 

No - playing the game, you realized.

You took your role.

“What is this place? This… void?” You asked, held in his measured yet leading grip, as if ready to dance.

“It is as you said. A void. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply… void.”

Your brows twitched downwards for just a moment. You had to find the right words to play this correctly.

“ _ Why _ is it a void?”

Your Souls’ light intensified in tandem for a moment.

“The void may be a lack of anything, but it is, in all technicality, also a  _ place _ . One that does not like to release its hold on what has ever actually  _ existed _ , and is therefore by definition, not-Void.” His accent grew particularly thick with static and lilt at the last of his words.

His gaze held yours as your mind worked through his words.

“... You’ve been here before.”

A brow bone of his rose.

You breathed out sharply through your nose. You were close, but... “Then… your Soul, naturally forming a bridge here, despite what Alphys said about the usual intent and choice of the person initiating…” you spoke as you stared back at him, taking in his overall appearance indistinctly as something in you let your thought process spill from your lips. The deep cracks in his face were as black as the void around you, reminding you of the rim to the holes in his hands…

You tensed, your words halting.

Your face tilted slightly, refocusing properly on him, as he simply watched you, his face coolly trained. 

“That is… your Soul - your very Soul is tied here, the void not wanting to let go, as you put it - your Soul itself is linked to the Void?” You started putting emphasis on the term, as your voice grew in steadiness. “How much time would that involve, to be tied so thoroughly to a place, so strongly? Were you here for… for  _ that  _ long? What kind of hold does the Void take, how could you - how could you end up in the Void in the first place-?”

Before you could run fully out of breath, a huffing glitching sound came from deep in Gaster’s chest, sudden and low but strong.

He was chuckling.

“A canary on full alert at last,” he said through it. His Soul shone a deeper purple as yours hitched higher. His chuckling subsided, and his eyelight slipped to your Soul. “Time immeasurable, literally and figuratively, I would estimate in response to at least two of your questions. To the others… I shall say that the Void is not a place you stumble in and out of at random and in luck.”

“Then are we…?”

“In present danger of being stranded? No, _tormentita_ , this is not so much the true Void as a… certain facsimile.” His gaze switched to his own black Soul. “The reminder of it is very real, very involved, and very persistent. This, however, is another space entirely. My Soul simply has a staggering connection to this place, one that even your Soul could not override.”

His voice was a very strange sort of mesmerizing.

“‘Even’ my Soul?” you echoed.

His gaze went back to your Soul once again. With both your hands still resting in his, he moved his right and your left until they were just beneath your Soul, and he spread his thumb and index finger as if ready to gently pluck your Soul out of the air even as your hand stayed resting over his palm.

“ _ Perseverancia _ ,” he said simply.

“... the Soul type?” you ventured. The night with Sans -  _ last night _ ,  _ only last night _ , you realized - discussing the Soul traits came back to you, a little blurred by your distraction at the time.

Gaster looked at you, no surprise in his expression, not that you could read. “ _ Si _ . You know of the types, then?”

Your mouth pulled to one side as you considered what was the truth. “Know of them, yes. I’m not… terribly familiar yet. I only learned of them last night.”

“Ah, yes… Sans has informed you to some degree,” he stated. You doubted that he had actually forgotten that, but didn’t say anything. “Yes… otherwise known as Perserverance. It is your Soul trait.”

Your eyes widened before your gaze dropped to your Soul. It spun slowly in place, serene, almost ready. Across from it, Gaster’s Soul echoed the same light from his obsidian Soul.

Without looking away, you began speaking. “Humans have their Soul traits clearly displayed in their Soul… through the color, if I’m not mistaken, and I don’t think I am. Monsters, then… is that what the aura is around your Soul?”

You looked up at him. For the first time since entering this strange semblance of a Void, he nodded.

“No doubt you have seen the different colors amongst the others. Papyrus, orange -  _ valentía _ . Undyne, green -  _ amabilidad _ . Alphys, yellow -  _ justicia _ . Grillby, red -  _ determinación _ . Sans, cerulean -  _ paciencia _ .” He counted these off without hesitation, with a familiarity that bordered on medically rote. “And then, us. Purple.  _ Perseverancia _ .”

His head tilted to the side by a small measure, and his back curved as he leaned in. His hand hovered to nearly hold yours, spread open with your hand resting over it just under the both of your Souls.

His tone was  _ intrigued _ .

“Matching Soul traits… what does that mean?” You asked, your voice quiet, hoping you wouldn’t break the nearly strange willingness with which he was sharing this information with you.

His voice filled the void around your forms. “Any number of things, of course. Many would derive meaning from this. A great many, in fact, with our hues so close to matching.” His hand twisted slightly, and you felt the echo of your own perspective roll as your Soul twisted around. “In the simplest of scientific meanings, it means that our core approaches to life itself are similar. The desire and ability to persevere in spite of the workings of the universe itself, it drives us. Our values may differ, our goals may wildly contest one another - or not. But at the core of us, we align ourselves with that of problem-solving and analysis, of laying and navigating traps of a distinctly intellectual nature… we persevere through this, and through all.”

For the first time, you realized, darkness had not enveloped his form. There was no static at his edges, no glitch in his appearance, nor had there been this entire time in this almost-Void.

His single eyelight held your gaze, tinged in the faintest, deepest purple, his hand holding yours under the warm light of your two Souls.

The questions brimmed in your chest, but you found none able to rise to your tongue. You simply gazed back at him, the infinite darkness around you serving only to spotlight your unlikely existence here even further.

“You speak like a scientist.” You said.

Still leaning towards you, towards your Souls, his expression remained still. “A curious observation.”

Neither of you looked away.

Something in his eyelight was brighter, a spark of… humor.

You wondered if you were starting to be able to read him better, or if it was just the open presence of your Souls.

“It’s harder to be dishonest when your Soul is out like this, isn’t it?” Your head tilted slightly as you asked, the curiosity tinging your own tone.

“Yes. Interestingly enough, you humans appear to have recalled this in your colloquial lexicon, though likely by accident,” he replied. “ _ Baring one’s soul _ , I believe it still goes.”

“No - wow. You’re right,” you said, your eyes widening slightly.

He arched a brow at you.

_ Of course _ .

He didn’t even need to say the words.

You considered his features again, carefully studying him. You felt vulnerable, an electric awareness deep within you telling you even if you  _ hadn’t  _ seen it, that his hand hovered just below your own Soul, as surely as you could feel the dark pulse of his Soul drifted a bare hand’s span away from your own. 

Even though the darkness no longer dripped from his form, he looked so at home in the surrounding emptiness. At home not in the manner that comfort grows like a song from your chest, but at home in the way ice lies across the frozen north; at home in the way a hammer strikes a nail; at home in the way rain always finds its way to the ground.

Gaster rose from leaning over you as though he was simply meant to, as though power and sureness, not darkness or static, is what truly dripped off of his form.

“... Anyone who willingly tries to cross you is an idiot,” you muttered. 

Your Souls pulsed bright between you both at the same moment you realized what precisely you had said out loud.

You immediately and absolutely looked away from him and the telling light flashing from your Soul. 

You refused to say anything else as you contemplated the depth of the hole you had dug yourself into.

“... You are right.”

You felt a push underneath your Soul, and you looked up with a grimace and relief still on your face as you registered the lack of anger in his tone. Gaster caught your gaze once again.

“You… are on our side,” he stated simply.

“A thousand times over. I believe you can all see that without doubt now,” you replied. The hint of pride in your chest shone brighter from your Soul.

“It was a test that you did indeed pass.”

You looked him back as fiercely as you could, willing every ounce of honesty you knew you couldn’t avoid in this place to register just as clearly in your expression. “Gaster, it is an honor to be able to join your family.  _ Del Alma _ has been a home to me since the first day I was brought in, and I care too deeply about it, about everyone there, and about the Core to let anything happen to it. Over my dead body, as humans are wont to say,” you swore, the tick in your smile only adding to your vehemence.

A moment passed.

“ _Bien._ ”

He leaned down, the movement almost gravitational in its inevitability. With an immeasurable gentleness and lack of hesitation, his forehead pressed coolly to your own as his gaze held yours, the conversation firmly at its end.

“I welcome you into our family, your star joining our constellation, bright-burning and at last at home.”

The light enveloped you with a fierceness that overwhelmed any time previous as you clenched your eyes shut. The space rushed around you and re-oriented itself in a wave that sent you off-balance, but Gaster’s hands still held yours as the sensation faded. You opened your eyes, standing back in the firelit room - but Gaster’s Soul was still out, floating alongside yours. 

Around you closed in the other monsters, and in front of them the each held cradled in an extended hand their own Souls. Sans shoulder nearly brushed with yours, Papyrus beamed at you. Undyne’s sharp grin glinted above you in the light of the Souls, Alphys looked distinctly teary-eyed, and Grillby’s flames burned bright and proud.

Your mouth dropped open at the array of colors surrounding you, at the warmth and -

At the unequivocal and overwhelming feeling of  _ belonging _ .

“ _ Tormentita _ .” Gaster’s voice was heavy with static and his accent, and you quickly looked back up at him. “As individuals, we have accepted and welcomed you to join us in our family. As one, we bond you now fully to us, a part forevermore of our constellation, the stardust we share at our physical base reunited, the spark in our Souls growing stronger together.”

As one, your Souls flared, the colors blending together as the light grew to an intensity that made something in you ache with sheer, unbridled happiness.

Gaster’s voice echoed across the room, enveloping you all.

“ _Eres de la familia.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/eres+de+la+familia)_ ”

The light in your Souls flared one final time, the raging emotions in you rising with it as you felt the tears come again, wet and hot trails streaking down your cheeks as everything went white. The weight left your body for a moment, every one of your senses overwhelmed.

You opened your eyes with the feeling of coming up for air after too long without. Your eyes met a view of the ceiling, framed by the heads of the monsters you just bonded with leaning over you to varying degrees, with Gaster once more expressionless and hardly bent at all, but there was a brightness to his eyelight you almost recognized.

Sturdy skeletal arms held and kept you from laying fully on the floor. Your gaze shifted to meet Sans’, who shifted you slightly in his hold as you stirred. Your hand went to your chest, where a bright warmth nestled. You began to smile, and you could see your family join you, with Sans grinning at you utterly unrestrained.

“welcome home, canary.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have been waiting: welcome back to Speakeasy Soul. <3
> 
> I can't believe it's been so long since I've updated - I'll keep it simple and not go on about this and that, but for the short of it all I've essentially been trying to work on treatment for my ongoing chronic health issues. I had to take an unplanned break from writing (and a lot of other things) for a while due to it, but since then I've been working on Speakeasy Soul with what time and energy I've had to spare. A little ways into this chapter I had a feeling for just how long it could end up being, and rather than awkwardly split up such an emotional and background-intensive piece of the story, I decided to commit to one big update.
> 
> ... I might not have expected it to be quite _this_ big though, heh.  <3
> 
> In any case, this story is anything but dead! I'm getting to a more manageable place with my health, so I'm able to write more regularly. This means that updates will start rolling (at a more normal length for this fic, I'll note) again! 
> 
> With how long it's been, I'm going to refrain from replying to the comments that built up in my absence, but from the very, very depths of my heart, to every one of you who have commented at any length, left kudos, or otherwise read and appreciated this story: **_thank you_**. I've read every single one of your comments dozens of times, and they have helped me stay determined in more ways than I can begin to count or explain. I love you all so much, and am utterly floored that there are over 600 kudos and nearly 400 comments at the time I'm writing this. 
> 
> Hearing from you makes every word worth it all the more, and inspires me to keep going and weaving this story for you all. <3
> 
> That said, I would _love_ to know what you think of this chapter! Who were your favorites in bonding? What areas did you like? Were there any backstory or lore pieces that caught your eye, or perhaps hints of things to come that you're interested in...? Maybe just a keyboard mash of feelings, or maybe it actually wasn't what you had hoped for (I'm honest with myself and know that that is an all-too-real possibility, so no worries there)!
> 
> I'll be replying to comments again from here on out, so I can't wait to hear from you. Have a lovely, lovely night, however you choose to spend it, and always remember:
> 
> take care of yourself... 'cause someone really cares about you.
> 
> <3


	18. Seeing Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Years of practice kept a standard, warm half-smile on your face. Nothing out of place, and certainly nothing mocking. By the stars, anything but that. Your hand resting secure in your partner’s grip couldn’t betray a role switch, but maybe with a subtle increase in pressure where your other hand rested on her shoulder -_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You’re still broadcasting too much for me to not hear that,” came the growl above you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to jump in here really quick to say thank you so much to everyone for your kind words and comments after that last chapter! I'm floored at the support and sweetness you all are filled with, and am continually struck by how lucky I am to have you as readers. 
> 
> We're back at it and entering the second half of _Speakeasy Soul_ with this chapter, so I hope you enjoy what's to come.  <3

“I swear to the stars, Canary, _I’m_ going to jump his bones if you don’t get a hold on this.”

“please don’t.”

“For the love of - of _all of our sanity_ , I’m going to need more advice than ‘hold it in’, then,” you groaned.

You resisted the consistently growing urge to bury your face in your hands. It’s not like it would help - you could tell every one of your feelings was being broadcasted to your two companions like a play-by-play radio announcement.

You couldn’t even properly enjoy Sans’ strained yet cocky grin and the blue tinge to his cheekbones, because every time your mind drifted-

“Can’t you think about anything else for _two minutes,_ ” Undyne groaned, flopping back into her low-backed chair, her face uncharacteristically tinged with its own navy blush. Her scowl was a bit more familiar. You tried to distract yourself  by focusing on the way she ran her hands through her thick, wavy hair, which had come out of its usual tied-back position sometime within the last hour and now fell beautifully over her shoulder.

It was almost too easy to have your mind wander like this. Having passed out for a few hours again not long after completing the bond, you had woken up tucked back into the bed you had slept in the night prior, and it wasn’t long before a wave of emotions washed over you in the wake of what you had just done with the Core - with your new Family. And, well, before that, with Sans, too-

Undyne had thrown open the door to your room barely thirty seconds later shouting your name, Sans immediately behind her, his grin strained and his hands tensely stuffed into his pockets.

The look in his eyes had sent both chill and heat streaking up your spine then.

Undyne had tackled you before your thoughts went any further downwards as Sans made a strangled noise and the lights in his eyes went out.

Now here you were, vaguely registering the deepening navy on Undyne’s scales as her hand worked through a knot.

“well, at least she’s not focusing on me now,” Sans voice came from your other side, and your gaze shifted to him. He was the picture of lax cockiness, something he seemed to have perfected, honed with the air of unaffected confidence that had you wanting to bait him and tease him, just a little, even as you caught the slight line of tension in the vertebrae of his neck-

You quickly shoved those thoughts aside as Undyne groaned and Sans caught your eye, his gaze hungry, amused, and frustrated.

Oh yes, you could absolutely picture what you hoped he wanted to do to you, pushing you into the couch cushions now supporting you, the heat rising in your chest, the blazing effect of the magic skimming his bones blinding your thoughts-

Undyne threw a pillow at you, knocking your hair further askew and interrupting your thought process again.

You groaned and succumbed to slumping into your hands.

“There’s _got_ to be a way to get this under control,” you grumbled, still loud enough for the other two to hear.

“Well a good first step would be to be a little less _caliente[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/horny)\- _ ”

You threw the pillow back at her with more force than you intended. She caught it with ease, rolling her eyes, but her smirk returning.

“What, I’m just saying! A lot of this distraction would be solved… Clearly you two just need to f-”

An electric-blue bone no bigger than your pinky hit her just between her eyes.

“ _Pendejo de mierda-”_ she swore, her own magic flashing as it sparked to form, and you could catch a flash, almost an echo at the edge of your vision, of emerald green from her chest.

“Wait, wait-!” you said, pushing forward to stand quickly. Her good eye shot to look at you, unimpressed, then widening just slightly as it flickered to glance at your chest and back up. You could _feel_ Sans lean forward, just slightly, as his Soul shifted a little.

You were the most desperately aware of every shift in his movement.

“... Undyne. When you started to use magic just now - I saw… some kind of pulse? From your chest, in green,” you clarified, curiosity and calculation in your tone as you focused.

"... _E_ _spérate[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/esperate) _. Seriously? You saw that?" She stopped in her tracks, her visible eyebrow shooting up. Before you could look over to catch Sans eye, he was at your shoulder, his eyes trained on your chest. He absently brushed a stray lock of hair over your shoulder and leaned in towards your chest. You stood stock still as Undyne stepped over, leaning over Sans with an equal lack of concern for your personal space and squinting at your chest. You were used to it, but were far more interested in the way Sans' hand, once again covered with his crimson glove, slipped over your shoulder for the barest moment before he put it in his pocket once more.

You focused hard on keeping your mind as blank as possible then, willing yourself to not linger on the subtle scent of whiskey and pine you recognized from Sans.

His cheekbones dusted a little more darkly with blue, but he focused on your Soul.

"... it looks normal," he said slowly. "but..." he glanced to Undyne, back to your Soul, then up at you. "maybe a little experimentation is in order."

"What, you think she might be actually catching the-?" Undyne said, stopping herself as she straightened and looked to Sans in surprise.

His expression pulled slightly, and his gaze remained on you as he too stood straight. "can't say for certain till we test it out."

"What does this experiment involve..?" You said carefully. You trusted them, but you could still feel the dregs of emotional exhaustion pulling at your senses. Your hands went to your hips as you regarded the two monsters in front of you.

"Since Sans has the best Soul Sight, he can keep watch - you just keep an eye on me while I test out some things. Let us know if you see anything, basically," Undyne answered, mirroring your position with a sharp grin. Her gaze shifted to Sans and she quirked a brow, and he simply nodded at her as he continued to look at you.

"all you have to do is use that sharp eye of yours, _pajarita_ , and let us know what you've got," he added with a wink. He shrugged and slipped both his hands in his pockets, grinning. "you've always got a solid _sight_ of a situation, so i trust ya to do what you do best."

His words rolled around in your mind for barely a moment before you matched his grin, feeling the tease of his challenge spark in your own Soul. "As you wish, boneboy," you replied, enjoying the quick upwards tug of his grin - and his subsequent flush as you realized your particular excitement blazed off of you loud and clear through the Soul bond. Undyne groaned and stepped a few paces away, apparently giving up on wording her annoyance this time.

Before you could get caught in exasperation at your current inability to control what you shared, Undyne lifted a hand in the air and you felt the crackle of an energy nothing short of magical as a spear burst into existence in her hand. Simultaneously, a pulse of muted emerald green sparked from her chest, and your eyes widened. You turned to look at Sans and caught his eyes trained on your chest, a serious set to his eyes as his eyelights flickered up to catch your gaze.

"see it?"

You nodded. "Green sparks, a little dark, at the same time her spear formed," you confirmed.

"alright. Undyne, up the ante."

His gaze slipped back to your chest as you looked again to Undyne. Her grin widened sharply and she shot her free arm out to her side, tearing a spear out of the air before lifting both hands, spear in each, and swinging them sharply downwards, a magical afterimage tearing damaging swipes down in a lingering glow before fading. Her Soul - it must have been the source, you knew, even if you couldn't see it - sparked immaterially, harsher and a little brighter than before.

"Stars, Undyne," you said, your tone laced with approval.

"again?"

You nodded, still eyeing Undyne's spears. They had taken on a more brutal appearance, the heads appearing nearly harpoon-like in shape and sharpness.

"Brighter, more fierce this time - but still soft, almost as if it was behind a cloth or something."

"That's nothing," she said. She looked at Sans, her posture strung tight and ready. "I'm gonna up it another level," she said, not much of a question to her tone.

He waved at her, eyes no longer shifting from your Soul. "just watch for collateral."

Immediately she dropped lower, one hand freeing as its spear disappeared in a flash. She slammed her hand to the ground and, in a wave of sharp energy that nearly forced you a step backwards, dozens of spears shot into existence with a blinding light and tangible energy, hovering at the ready around her. Her Soul flashed with energy, no longer sparks but a solid streak of blurred light that left an empty outline of her Soul visible for the barest of moments.

"I take back my earlier impressed words, because I should have reserved them for this," you said, catching her eye with a grin. Looking to Sans, you added, "Not just sparks this time - I could just barely catch an outline of her Soul for a split second."

Undyne let the spears fade, and hairs you didn't realize had risen on your arms fell once again. She looked to Sans, who after a moment returned her gaze as you looked between them. He nodded.

She whistled low, looking back to you, nearly impressed.

"i want to test with me," Sans said. You looked at him with surprise, but nodded.

You could feel the near-shudder of excitement as the memories of his magic hit you. The last time you had seen him use anything offensively was harrowing - the sound of the car rolling, the cut-off hoarse sound of screams echoing in your memory before you managed to shut that train of thought down - but the memory of the power you had felt humming through him at the time was doing strange things to you.

Sans' eyes lifted to yours. This time, he wasn't blushing - but his grin had returned, just slightly, an edge to it that did nothing to quell the excitement in you.

"Stars above, hurry up and do it so we can figure out how to turn her off," Undyne groaned.

You bit your tongue to prevent the easy comeback you had to that.

Sans apparently threw that reservation out the window.

"can't say i'm particularly looking to _turn her off_ ," he said.

At the same moment, his hand lifted out of his jacket faster than you could track, tearing a dark blue bone out of thin air as he did so. Your Soul jumped as you registered his movement and the spark of cerulean from the center of his chest.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and determinedly _not_ looking towards Undyne.

His eyelights, set on your Soul, glanced to catch your gaze.

You didn't know what you were going to do if you didn't get a grip on controlling your broadcasted emotions.

His gaze went back to your Soul, a brightness to his eyelights that didn't make the heat in you fade any further for his attention moving away from your eyes.

You caught the bright shower of cerulean near his chest as he rolled his shoulders, shifting slowly, _powerfully_ , to stand straighter - as simultaneously dozens of bones arced above and around him, perfect in formation, sharper yet in appearance.

It cast a dim blue glow against his back, outlining his form.

You bit your lip, managing to nod once. "You're... brighter than Undyne was," you managed to say.

His eyes stayed on your Soul, his face not betraying his thoughts. You wished for a moment that you could read him through his Soul as well as he could read you.

At once, the bones disappeared from his back, and a flash of cerulean that outlined his Soul, bright and nearly clear, caught your eye before a shiver ran across your shoulders and he was in front of you, nearly chest-to-chest with you, the cerulean flash now in front of you before blinking out of existence. You didn't scream, but your foot shot backward, hitting the couch behind you and knocking you off balance.

His arm was at your back too fast, steady and firm and then you were pressed against his chest without warning, one hand shooting up to steady you, pressing against the sturdy surface, tingling with barely-suppressed magic pulsing from Sans.

"You did that on purpose," you said. You didn't pull away.

"little hard to teleport on accident, _estrellita_ ," he replied.

Damn, did you want to kiss that smirk off his face.

"OKAY, EXPERIMENT OVER, LET'S HEAR THOSE _MALDITA_ RESULTS BEFORE THE ENTIRE COMPOUND HEARS SOUL S-"

There was the now oddly distinct sound of a tiny bone hitting a fish monster in the head, and Undyne cut herself off in a series of impressive swears.

Sans grin didn't lower as he silently held your gaze for another long moment.

He stepped away just as you were wondering if trial by fire were a good way to quiet your broadcasted emotions.

"... so, canary, what did you see that last time?"

"Besides you _out of the blue_ trying to scare me out of my skin?" You said, rallying quietly and facing both him and Undyne with a quirk to your brow and a better-controlled flush to your cheeks. "A brighter... well, _aura_ of cerulean, like Undyne had her final time - but yours was much clearer, really. It was almost like hers was muted - it took more concentration to catch it, I'd say."

Undyne, still looking inclined to spear both of you on the spot, looked to Sans. "So she can definitely see it then. Why do you think the distinction...?"

His hands found their home in his pockets once more as he regarded you, the words coming from him even as his mind seemed to be working ahead. "... how close we are," he said. "she and i have spent... more time together, and have a closer relationship, versus you two still getting to know each other." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "we'd need to test with the others, but... that seems the most likely."

Trying to not linger on the line about your relationship, you crossed your arms thoughtfully. "So... somehow, I can see when you are using magic... but through your Soul? Why? How?"

"Monsters are made of magic," Undyne said with a shrug. She placed her hands on her hips, regarding you. "And a bit of dust, sure, but mostly magic. When we use it, we're extending it beyond our bodies."

"it could easily register as a 'flash' from our Souls, if you could 'see through' magic, as it's essentially a spike in magical output from our Souls," Sans continued.

You nodded, your brow drawn in. "Makes sense. But... that doesn't answer why I can suddenly see this - though I'm pretty easily leaning towards it being caused by the bond..."

Sans and Undyne nodded in return.

"there haven't been a lot of - if really any, outside of the one i know of - human-monster bonds since we returned to the surface," Sans said. "the effects of a bond on humans isn't described in what texts we salvaged. so... it's not hard to imagine - or see, clearly - that there'd be some sort of effect."

"What I wanna know is if it’s _permanente_ ," Undyne added, eyeing your chest for a moment. "Is this some kinda ability that'll fade? Some kinda overflow since humans are _mierda_ with magic, so she's got a short period of time where she can do this?"

You all went quiet for a moment as your thoughts went in different directions.

You knew mages didn't exist anymore - not so far as you had seen. No humans with the power had been heard of for hundreds of years, which always led you to think that their magic must have been tied to monsters' coexistence with humanity. Since their return, though, there still lacked word of humans outright able to perform magical feats. There were rumors of humans with some minor abilities relating to magic, but little outside of that.

"And... is this actually magic?" You said, the words slow off your tongue, measured and curious.

"what do you mean?"

Your gaze met Sans'. "Let's say this _is_ permanent, for simplicity's sake. Is it actually magic, or a sort of passive ability that just... allows me to be more readily _aware_ of magic?"

" _Maldita sea[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/maldita+sea) _ ," Undyne said, surprise and something akin to frustration in her voice. "That's a good question."

"that's one hell of an observation, canary," Sans said. There was a hint of pride in his words, and a heavy amount of curious consideration. "and... it's hard to say right now." he added, somewhat reluctantly. You nodded.

With tensions as they still were between a large sect of humans against the rest of monsterkind, you knew that there were going to be very few cases to measure you against.

"... Well, there's only one way to find out," you said after a few moments. Undyne and Sans' brows lifted, the question in the air. You grinned. "Time to experiment some more."

This time, you felt the surge of approved and eager challenge from the bond you shared with the two in front of you.

 

* * *

 

The soft and bright winding of the trumpet wove between the bodies on the dance floor, marking a smooth beat to follow as you deftly evaded another misplaced foot.

Years of practice kept a standard, warm half-smile on your face. Nothing out of place, and certainly nothing mocking. By the stars, anything but that. Your hand resting secure in your partner’s grip couldn’t betray a role switch, but maybe with a subtle increase in pressure where your other hand rested on her shoulder -

“You’re still broadcasting too much for me to not hear that,” came the growl above you.

Your eyes flickered to Undyne’s. They were trained on her feet, a scowl affixed to her face.

“I really don’t mind leading, I know how to do it well even being the shorter partner,” you said, trying to sound as offhand as possible.

You caught the telling shift in her posture and quickly stepped out of the way of another misstep.

She swore under her breath. You had given up your count of that at this point.

“Don’t pity me, canary-”

“It’s not pity,” you said quickly, a little forcefully.

It had been a very long week of attempting to get your bond under control. You weren’t quite used to the near-utter lack of success you were having in what you likened to controlling your expressed emotions.

“ _Tonterías,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/tonter%C3%ADas) _ ” she said, rolling her eyes. Her scowl deepened as she bumped both of you into another couple dancing - at her sudden snarl towards them, your resolve hardened and your hand tugged at hers while your other hand pressed more deftly at her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she automatically responded and you both turned with the music away from them.

“I may be broadcasting, but I know I’m at least a _bit_ harder to read with it,” you said low, your voice only carrying to her. She opened her mouth to rebut you again, but you cut her off. “No, listen. I feel… upset for you, but it’s not pity. I’m guessing you haven’t had much of a chance or inclination to learn before now - let alone both sides of a dance,” you said, taking advantage of her shaken anger to lead you both gently even in the steps of the dance that had you theoretically following her.

“... Yeah, well, I’ve always been more of an action, fighter type,” she admitted. Her visible eye slanted to the side, avoiding your gaze.

You didn’t need the bond to understand it, but you still felt the pulse of frustration and slight embarrassment from the bond between you.

She wasn’t used to being visibly bad at something physical like this.

“... I’m sorry you have to be here with me.”

Her eye shot back to you, her brow lifting. “What-”

You shook your head, eyeing the edge of the dance floor you had been guiding the two of you towards. “You don’t have to dance with me, you know. You can grab a drink from Grillby and take it easy in a booth, I’m sure you’re tired from whatever runs you had to make earlier-”

She stopped you both. You protested instinctually with the music still going, urging your body to keep up with it - but she held you fast, the one visible brow of hers raising in disbelief.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Your own brows lifted now, before dragging inwards. “You’re uncomfortable, and essentially have to keep eye on me just because we don’t know yet of side effects of the bond-”

She scoffed and waved you off with the hand she lifted from your waist. “That’s nothing.”

“Okay, I think that’s my turn to call _tonterías_ on you, now,” you replied dryly.

“I can feel the disbelief radiating off of you, _listilla.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/listillo) _ ”

“You can read it on my face too, one eye or no.”

You stared each other down. A sliver of very conscious space was left around your still forms as the music and dancing picked up around you. Nobody seemed to want to mess with the imposing form of Undyne - though perhaps your well-held form and dry look spoke well enough, too.

Finally, she sighed. “Listen, none of us are mad about keeping an eye on you right now.”

You opened your mouth to speak - after an additional day off, enforced by a skeletal hand or two you had a feeling Mettaton was none too happy to deal with, and further testing that you were indeed able to catch sparks of Soul magic of varying clarity from the others you had bonded  with, you had returned to perform at _El Fuego Del Alma_ … with the distinct feeling of it having been _far_ longer than just a few days since you had been here. It had been a week now since your bond, and each night Undyne or Papyrus had shown up by the time you were performing to keep an eye on you while the audience remained transfixed and elated by your work as usual.

Sans notably hadn’t been among those sent to watch you. You had been having distinctly greater troubles controlling your broadcasted feelings around him, nearly embarrassing yourself time and again those first few days and significantly testing any restraint you both had as the Core as a whole focused on the increasing attempts against them to steal inventory… among other things you weren’t yet privy to.

Undyne cut you off before you could draw together another argument. “Okay, first off, stop thinking about Sans, I can feel that swelling feeling and I’m going to gag if I have to go through that again right now,” she said forcefully, but with a teasing twitch to her eye on you. “Second, we knew this might happen. Side effects, in general, and having to keep an eye on you.” Her eye flashed to the side, and suddenly she placed her hand on your waist again and attempted to lead you. You took over quickly, letting her look the part of lead while you worked to ensure you would not crash into every other couple moving around you. She grunted, something as close to a reluctant thanks as you figured you’d get, before continuing in a low voice, pressing closer to you to make sure only you would hear. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst duty to be on, anyways. You’re family, canary, it’s part of the damn deal,” she said. You looked back up at her, and caught the sharp smirk on her face.

You bit down your instinctual desire to lessen your role - you knew that kind of modesty didn’t apply here, and that variety of admittedly empty words were useless as things were currently. So you regarded her for a moment, rolling through your thoughts and trying to sort through your feelings. Her eye flashed to your chest for a moment before returning to you.

A spark of inspiration caught in you then, and you smiled slyly. “Alright then, I’ll accept that… for now,” you said, offhand, ignoring her good-natured eye roll once again. “In return though, let me make it more worth your while.”

The fins at either side of her face perked up at this. She caught the mischief in your look, and her eye narrowed warily. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let me teach you how to dance. Subtly, of course - no one will have to really notice - but I’ll teach you both sides of it so you’ll be ready if you need it… I imagine there’s someone at some point you’ve wanted to dance with?”

Her scales turned a deep navy at her cheeks. Your smile spread, victorious. She saw it do so and no doubt felt the shift through your bond, and groaned.

“It’s a little annoying that you’re so perceptive even without getting a clear read on our bond,” she grumbled.

“But useful for gathering intel.”

“Yeah, but not against _me_ ,” she said, exasperated. You laughed as she fought the upwards tick of her mouth at the humor of it all. At last she sighed then, meeting your gaze once more. “Alright, alright, I’m in. But just so I can get better with footwork for fighting,” she said.

You bit your lips to keep from grinning. It wasn’t terribly effective.

“Of course, it’s good training,” you agreed.

She narrowed her eye at you, but clearly knew she had little to fight you with. Her gaze shifted to the side as she bit down her own reaction before looking back to you.

“Alright then, _listilla_ , I think it’s about time we get you to your next appointment,” she grumbled. You nodded, still grinning.

Clearly suppressing the urge to throw you over her shoulder, Undyne bowed slightly at the waist and walked off the floor, striding out of sight as the dancefloor closed in around you. You made your way amicably through the floor in the direction of the bar, doing a twirl with various couples and groups along the way, your heart a little lighter.

A short minute later you were at your usual corner of the bar, and Grillby slid a highball glass of deep amber liquid with a single glowing red stone at the bottom. He rested for a moment in front of you, busying his hands with cleaning a glass, as you lifted it in toast to him with a grateful smile.

“Feeling better then, _chispita_?” He said. His low voice was gravelly with what you well knew was mirth.

“One day, I’m going to get a hold of my emotions, and it’ll go back to a normal level of insight for your teasing fuel,” you replied, shooting him a playfully sharp look. You took a deep drink from the glass, the smooth and rich liquid burning at the same time it soothed you sweetly. Magic buzzed and burned on your tongue and down your throat hot and comforting and powerful.

“At least you had the most clarity in vision with me,” he replied, as if it were a consolation prize. His accent twisted his words with a warm roll through his teasing flicker of a grin.

When you had further tested this strange new ability of yours to see sparks or more around the Soul of your newly bonded family, Sans and Undyne had quickly dragged in Papyrus, Alphys, and Grillby. Alphys hadn’t been able to look you in the eyes, Grillby seemed torn between the nearly uncharacteristic flame-splitting grin across his face and something he was deeply contemplating, and Papyrus looked his bright self but for his smile strained with the kind of discomfort that can only come from stumbling across your sibling in an extremely private moment.

In Papyrus you had seen orange sparks visible to a degree higher than Undyne’s; Alphys’ were a blurred golden yellow... but it wasn’t until Grillby had summoned what looked decidedly like a scimitar made of flame that you had been surprised.

You swore you could still almost see the blinding flash of red around his Soul even now, a week later.

Needless to say, you hadn’t gone further than that, if nothing else but for the sake of your vision.

“That is nowhere near comparable to the kind of material that matches what you currently can have on me,” you replied, now nearly two-thirds of the way through your drink. From the tilt to the grin buried in his flames, Grillby knew this perfectly well.

“ _El diablo esta en los detalles, mi querida amiga.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/el+diablo+est%C3%A1+en+los+detalles) _ ”

“And you have far too many of those details right now, Grillby.”

He chuckled, the crackling tone bringing a rueful grin to your face as you finished the drink. The stone rolled up to your lips as you drained the last of it, still softly glowing a rusted red, with the texture and look of a whiskey stone.

“ _Tome eso.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/tome+eso) _ ”

A brow quirked up at his low words. You almost felt more than heard them, the heat of the stone a warm presence at your lips, and a warm spark in your chest. At the same moment he spoke, the slightest glow, almost unnoticeable in his natural light, came from the center of his chest.

Without further question, you tipped the stone into your hand. It remained warm, though the glow faded till it was the faintest aura, revealing its natural riverstone grey coloring, darkened by the alcohol it had been in.

Before you could observe it much further, you felt a flood of impatience thread through to your chest, directly to your Soul, strong and short.

Grillby huffed a chuckle and shook his head, having clearly gotten the same message.

“I believe that’s my cue,” you said with a wry smile. You passed the glass to Grillby and tucked the stone away. “Thanks for the drink and the magic help, Grillby, truly.”

He nodded to you. “Always and anytime, _estrellita_. The same rules apply… no more than your usual limit in drinks or else it’ll be overpowered, and you’ll still have to keep an eye out for anything that may not pertain to what we’d call a … normal drink,” he said.

“That _is_ a bit of a specialty of mine,” you replied with a wink. “See you tomorrow, Grillby.”

With a wave, you made your way out the back ways of the speakeasy. Undyne was there in the shadows, leaning up against the worse-for-wear brick of the alley walls.

“Thanks for waiting, Undyne,” you told her, stopping in front of her and tucking your hands behind your back.

She huffed a scoff at you, but grinned.

“You felt it clear, then? No issues?” Her tone was a little more eager than she wanted to show on her face, making you grin.

“I think it’d be pretty hard to mistake that particular Undyne-brand signal,” you replied.

She punched you on the shoulder for that. You winced and rubbed at the spot, but thankfully she at least knew better than to leave a mark.

“You’re not encouraging me to leave off the _listilla_ nickname.”

You stood a little straighter, letting an overly-serious look fall over your face.

“ _Si_ , _lo siento mucho[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/lo+siento+mucho%2C) _ , Undyne. No more _fishy_ language from me.”

“That’s it, I’m dropping you off with that terrible influence now.”

She strode off with her hands shoved into her pockets, grumbling something about a terrible sack of bones being a perfect match for a bird that won’t stop talking. You laughed and followed after her, only having to tail her like that for a block or two before she slowed enough to walk alongside you as she took you through a number of back alleys without incident.

It felt fitting that it was the most shadowed dead end that you were brought to.

You eyed the lack of passage and sighed, turning to look back at her. “How long do we have to-”

She was gone.

Every fiber of your muscles tensed, a harsh wave of awareness lighting a cold fire through your body. You wouldn’t call out - _bad idea, bad idea_ , your mind insisted, but-

“you might want to take a steady breath, _pajarita_.”

You whirled, one hand slipping to your thigh on instinct, even as your Soul suddenly felt a careful, steady wave of reassurance from another Soul that you recognized too easily, too viscerally.

“ _Sans_ ,” you breathed, exasperation and relief roughing your voice. You nearly sagged, exhaling as the short moment of adrenaline released you. You glared at him, your Soul anything but in it.

“that’s the name, doll,” he said with chuckle. His eyelights were bright on you, holding your gaze with an ease you didn’t fight.

“... I’ll wear it out as much as I want,” you managed by way of rebuttal. Not one of your finest moments, but still.

“it’s been nearly a week since i’ve seen you… i’d say i’m into taking you up on that challenge,” he replied. He only needed two steps to stand in directly in front of you, barely a breath of space between your bodies.

“I still say I’d win that one,” you replied, the spark in your Soul roaring into a flame as you rose to his game.

His eyelights flickered to your chest, his chest hitching for a moment as he did so.

“... it’s a damn good thing Undyne booked it out of here real fast, canary,” he said. His voice was a little rough, and you caught the line of tension in his arms, giving you the distinct impression that his fists were clenching in his pockets.

The line reminded you of yourself, and you swore under your breath. “I’m getting really tired of not being able to hide my feelings,” you muttered, eyes nevertheless dipping involuntarily to his mouth.

One hand lifted from his pockets, his usual crimson glove covering his hand and catching your gaze as it moved towards you.

His index finger brushed against your cheek, your breath hitching at the faint buzz of magic you could feel below the soft leather. It trailed slowly to your ear, where he tucked back a tuft of your hair that had started to fall loose. Your heartbeat stuttered and picked up doubletime as your gaze slipped from his hand along his arm, over his shoulder and crimson collar, and back to his face, which had come far closer in your distraction.

His eyes lidded slightly, a mischievous grin on his face as he looked to your chest, then back up to your own gaze. “i’m a bit of a fan, i’ll admit… but only around me.” The hand at your ear brushed down to your neck, slipping backward, its presence sending a shiver down your spine. “can’t say i’m proud of it, but i can get a bit… jealous, when other people get to see that kinda side of things…”

His mouth was just over yours, and you could feel the spark of magic behind his words, the hint of it a deep and bright spark in his chest. You bit your lip, drawing his gaze down once again.

“I suppose I ought to admit, then, that you’re the only one who draws this kinda side out of me,” you whispered. A thrill ran through you at the twitch of his fingers at the nape of your neck, at the way his sharper canines caught the light in the shadows of the alleyway. “Though I have a feeling you knew that…”

He chuckled then, short and dark and rough, his eyes still lingering on the curve of your lips. “still drives me crazy, the way you know precisely what you do to me…”

“I’d be pretty terrible at my job if I didn’t,” you replied, a mischievous grin of your own playing on your face now. At last, you lifted a hand, brushing it upwards along his chest, the sturdy feel of his chest and the heady buzz of his magic you were ever-more aware of making it a fight to not close the last of the distance between you.

Your hand slipped to his lapel as he opened his mouth, only for him to snap it shut as he opted to simply hold your gaze. This close to him, you were once again made aware of the slight advantage in height he had over you, forcing you to tilt your head just a fraction to match his gaze, making it all too easy to arch your back and press towards him.

You drew in a breath finally, steeling yourself. “However, speaking of my job…”

His eyes shut, and his brow bones drew downward.

A sigh left him.

“... the worst part is, i know you’re right and being responsible,” he muttered, not moving his hand or shifting back a single step.

“That’s me, the responsible con artist for my mafia family,” you muttered.

That drew a chuckle out of him, and you were met with his bright eyelights once more. “i suppose that just means we’ll have to do a little experimenting on that challenge _más tarde_.”

“I’d expect no less,” you shot back, your grin growing. You gripped his lapel lightly, the action drawing a long blink from Sans as he took a breath to control himself.

His eyes opened with a flash, and his other arm was suddenly looped around your waist, dragging you flush against him.

“hold tight then, _hermosa_. we’ve got to get you to a date with the enemy.”

The darkness folded around you as he pressed you close to his sturdy form, and you could nearly feel the blaze of cerulean blue that raged from his Soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty, Sans wasn't supposed to sneak up and steal well over a thousand words of story focus here... but what can I say, with everything that's happening it only made sense... plus, well, I'm guessing there won't be _too_ many complaints on that front.
> 
> ... Well, outside of that sweet, sweet return to tension. I'm sorry (not terribly sorry, really), but I'll hint that we're coming up on some _very_ fun things with Sans and Canary, what with you quite unable to handle minimizing your broadcasted feelings...
> 
> Also, I would like to once again thank you all for your continued support and readership! It really, truly means everything to me, whether you're new or returning, and I'm looking forward to bringing you this next half of the story. If you can, leave a comment - I love hearing from you all, and it gives me such wonderful inspiration to keep writing and push through the harder days (I may or may not absolutely reread your comments each chapter dozens of times, flustered and a little incapable of handling my feelings).
> 
> I'll see you all again soon... <3


	19. Gaining Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“... Grillby. Grillby, my dearest, most wonderful, most alcoholically gifted and deftly-handed friend,” you said, your eyes drifting shut as you pressed your fingertips more firmly together and leaned over the stone bartop. You heard his flames crackle lightly as he shifted, a sound you now could easily characterize as questioning. You opened your eyes and locked your gaze with his. “... Grillby, can other monsters sense my bond? Can they sense my stars-cursed projected feelings?”_

The comforting sensation of protective magic buzzing in your gut kept you grounded under the extravagant and low-lit ceiling of _Notte Oscura_. Your usual protection, from a drink crafted by Grillby himself, wouldn’t last you fully for more than one of their drinks, but there was something about the lingering assurance of that warmth that kept your heart steady as you gazed out over the crowd, your song falling from your lips.

Behind you, their talented and watchful pianist swept his fingers over the keys, the winding of the notes he deftly played to accompany your voice entrancing the audience as their dancing slowed to an easy, intoxicated sway. Your voice dipped low, and the rumbling murmur of the swath of humans conversing around and among the dance floor matched, intriguingly respectful of your performance even in a speakeasy.

The smoke hung low and still over the crowd, and the familiar glow of the ends of cigars and joints could be seen throughout both the groups scattered around the room and concentrated on the dancefloor.

With your heartbeat and breathing slowed to allow you to focus on your performance even as your Soul was thrumming fast and insistent within your chest, you found yourself wryly wishing that you had a lit one of your own. Your eyes strayed to the side, unseeing, for just a moment. The night your lips nearly brushed a kiss against Sans as he shared a hit with you, your fingers dragging over his chest as you tried to hold yourself steady… you shivered the slightest amount before tearing your attention back to your song, working it into your performance.

As you descended the stairs backstage a few minutes later, you pressed a hand over your heartbeat. A rueful grin crossed your face as you caught yourself thinking for just a moment how grateful you were that there weren’t any of your family in the near vicinity to be bombarded with that particular distracting roll of emotions.

“Your second performance was no less dazzling than your first, miss.”

Your gaze shot up.

In front of you and just to the side of the backstage door that would lead you back to the main room was the man you had run into last time, the assistant or waiter of some sort to the powerful heads of _Notte Oscura_ itself. His posture was impeccable, his hands tucked behind his back, his voice polite and professional. There was the slight wrinkle to the corner of his smile, though, that gave his otherwise clinically practiced professionalism that hint of warmth you had strived to gleam from him last time.

You reduced the last of the distance to him, meeting his measured expression with a smile. “Thank you so very much, ah-” you paused, genuine upset flaring in you for a brief moment. You grimaced, catching his eye. “... Wow. Well. I am so very sorry, I’m now realizing I completely neglected to ask for your name last time.”

His eyes widened a fraction - and then he was bending forward at the waist, pressing a hand to his chest as his expression warmed just a little further. “Marcelle, _signora_. A pleasure to be formally acquainted.”

You replied with your own slight bow, a teasing smile on your face as you replied with your own name. “The pleasure is mine, Marcelle.” You stood again, pleased at how he remained slightly more at ease as he straightened as well. “How may I be of service?”

“I came to deliver a message,” he repliedhis expression still more relaxed even as his tone became guarded. Despite his steady warming to you, you still knew better than to expect a complete guard drop from someone in the position you could well assume he was in. “A request, actually, for a return performance next week, but one day earlier - not on our open night, but rather with a short designated set time as an acknowledged performer… a larger sampling test night, if you will.”

You looked to the side, raising a hand to your mouth as if to ponder the offer for a moment.

“Hmmm… I would assume this would be among the earlier performances of the night?” You asked, your eyes slipping to catch Marcelle’s.

He nodded. “We can provide some flexibility among the specific timing of it, but yes, you would be correct.”

An opening act, then, essentially. A common test given to performers to see your draw from name or recognition alone… a bit risky in speakeasies due to the legally-conflicted nature of their existence, but word of mouth still worked extremely well for a place as well known as _Notte Oscura_ \- or _El Fuego Del Alma,_ naturally. A test regardless, and an increase in risk on recognition and involvement.

You faced him fully once more and smiled. “Very well. I’m quite intrigued by the performance opportunity here,” you replied.

Marcelle smiled at you, and for the tiniest flash of a moment, you recognized a hint of relief.

“Excellent, I shall inform the appropriate figures. If you’d like to visit the bar, we can clarify a window of time shortly.” He opened the door for you then, gesturing politely for you to proceed first.

“I do believe I can divert myself there for at least a _few_ minutes,” you replied with a grin. His smile twitched as his slight facade broke for a moment again. He closed the door behind you, and you made your way to the bar with an easy sway to your hips and a smile for the humans you passed.

You had another part of your ongoing mission to get underway involving a considerable amount of alcohol, a number of well-hidden vials, and a lady bartender you were finding yourself looking forward to working out the brief and challengingly perceptive company of.

 

* * *

Your brow quirked and you hid your grin behind your coffee cup under the true guise of taking a sip. Papyrus’ deft hands carefully stacked the sixth teabag on his tiny saucer as he leaned over his enormous spread of documents, maps, and impeccably detailed notes to reach the small dish far to his right. You sat across from him, only crumbs remaining of your breakfast, a notebook laid open in front of you.

Despite the nearly 5-foot span of the table, his spread of papers only stopped just shy of your notebook.

“... Would you like me to find a new saucer for you, Pap?” you ventured as he carefully leaned back, his hand still outstretched as if ready to rescue his papers from the damp fate of the teabags should they fall. His gaze twitched to you, and his bright smile returned despite his continued slow movement.

“YOU’RE TOO KIND AS ALWAYS, _MI QUERIDA HERMANA!_ BUT NO, I AM QUITE CERTAIN OF MY OWN ABILITIES IN PUZZLING OUT THE BEST WAY TO MAINTAIN THE SITUATION WITH NO CASUALTIES.”

He only just managed to stop himself as he nearly jolted back towards the saucer at a perceived twitch of the pile.

He made a sound as if clearing a throat he didn’t have, then returned to his more natural position, one hand picking up his fresh cup of tea as the other picked up his pen. A slight dusting of orange at his cheekbones only made your grin widen, and you tried to bite down on it to prevent it from becoming too obvious. You played with your own pen as you stared idly at your notebook full of song concepts, but the smile didn’t go away.

Papyrus groaned.

“I CAN FEEL YOUR AMUSEMENT IN MY _BONES_ ,” he grumbled good-naturedly, and as you glanced up you caught the wry twist of his put-upon smile. Your own spread at that, and you laughed a little sheepishly.

“Sorry, Papyrus… I still can’t get a hold of this whole bond-sharing deal,” you said, the last of your words falling in a sigh. It had been over a week now, and you had slept over in the Core’s hideout last night after your second performance at _Notte Oscura_ . You had been dropped off the deemed safe number of blocks away, Sans holding your gaze for only a moment longer before stepping back and disappearing with a whisper of magic that brushed over your skin. He had picked you up in a similar way, in a designated spot, nearly startling a scream out of you and resulting in you attempting to smack his shoulder and scold him while also returning his teleport-ready embrace. Pressed against his chest you nearly _felt_ his laughter more than you heard it before he returned you both to the Core’s hideaway to fill him and Papyrus in on the events. Gaster had apparently been otherwise occupied last night... You then spent the night in the wonderfully comfortable bed you had been in last time, laying awake as thoughts of that dream you had been haunted by last time ghosted over you, almost making you able to feel his gloves brushing over the bare skin of your legs as his body leaned over you, pressing you into the bed-

A strained noise came from Papyrus.

“F- stars, I’m sorry,” you said quickly, the blush on your face intensifying in a way you were getting terribly used to.

Papyrus waved you off, not looking up from the latest corner of what appeared to be a building map that he was taking notes on. You could see the glow of orange on his features despite his inability to lift his face.

… You put down your pen, accompanied by your own groaning sigh. You cradled your face in your hands and rested your elbows on the table as you let the frustrated embarrassment roll over you.

All new skills took time, and you knew you had to view this bond in a similar way - there were so few human bonds with monsters in several, several centuries to begin with, let alone the complicating factor of monsters having been sealed away for so long that any lingering knowledge would have long since passed… it was a sort of unfamiliar territory that had you second-guessing your every move, thrown back into the memories of just a few years ago with too many nights spent on the streets, not sure where to go or who to really trust, but doing your best despite it all and following your kinder instincts regardless…

Without thinking, your hand reached for the stone Grillby had given you last night - it had found what might be a newly permanent home tucked at your hip. Its smooth, warm surface comforted you as you absent-mindedly rolled it in your hand, gazing at the spread of papers in front of Papyrus.

A majority of it was in his own scribe-like handwriting, but there were also scattered notes and entire pages of papers filled with unreadable iconography. This didn’t confuse you too terribly, though - codes weren’t exactly unheard of in this day and age. You rolled the stone in your hands, feeling reassured by the gentle heat and the nearly-polished texture.

“Hey Papyrus… how did you end up here?”

He lifted his gaze to you, slight curious surprise in his sockets. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, CANARY?”

You shifted in your chair, your legs tucking more comfortably underneath you. “In the Core, I suppose. How did you end up as…” you gestured vaguely towards the papers between you. “As a… tactician, let’s put it that way?”

His posture straightened as his gaze skirted to the side in thought. “WELL, IN THE END, I SUPPOSE IT WAS QUITE NATURAL. I’VE BEEN WORKING WITH UNDYNE FOR LONG SINCE BEFORE WE CAME TO THE SURFACE, AND SANS HAS BEEN ALONGSIDE ME THROUGHOUT THAT AS WELL…” A fond look came to his eyes at the mention of his brother. “GRANTED, HE’S ALWAYS BEEN LAZY, BUT... PARTICULARLY WHEN WE CAME TO THE SURFACE, HE REALLY PROVED THAT HE CAN GET A JOB DONE IN A PINCH.” He rolled his sockets, the put-upon air of a younger brother who has been plagued by the infinite teasing of his older brother twisting his fondness into slight hopeless amusement. “AFTER THE SURFACE PROVED TO BE… WHAT IT IS, AND THE NEED AROSE TO HAVE ORGANIZATIONS SUCH AS OUR OWN, WE WERE RECRUITED BY GASTER HIMSELF. I’VE BEEN DOING THIS EVER SINCE!”

He looked back to you with a smile, a proud lift to the edges, and you couldn’t help the wash of pride you felt for him on your own end. He startled slightly, his gaze flashing down to your chest as his brow bones drew upward. He looked back up to your eyes, then back down once more.

“Sorry, I know the constant stream is a bit overwhelming,” you offered. Your gaze turned back to the documents between you both. Recruited, were they? Well, their skills certainly were advanced enough to warrant that sort of reputation…

Your eyes had just caught on a repeated phrase in one page of his notes, one scattered with iconography, something about a dark soul - before he spoke up slowly once again. “NO, THAT’S NOT - ACTUALLY, FOR A FEW MINUTES…”

You lifted a brow and cocked your head, confused and curious. He shook his own head then and met your gaze again.

“NO, NEVERMIND. SO, WHY THE QUESTIONS ALL OF THE SUDDEN?”

You thought about this for a moment. “Curiosity, really. You’re all so talented, and so tight-knit - though that part of course makes sense for a number of reasons… but I just really wanted to know more about you, I realized. All of you! I hesitated to ask before,” you said, a grin playing once more at your lips. “But… well, Papyrus, we’re family. Officially, now, and even if I’m unfortunately, er, accidentally drowning you all in my feelings, I still hope that we can become closer. Properly, not just because I can’t filter my own flow of emotions through our bond to save my life - or to save my ego, at the least.”

Papyrus was blushing again, and his smile sparked that brilliantly fond warmth in your soul.

Stars, you could get used to this.

“I WOULD LIKE VERY MUCH TO GET CLOSER, _MI HERMANA_ ,” Papyrus replied. He leaned forward and clasped your hands between his, your stone caught by your own quick reaction before you could drop it. You laughed as you were pulled half onto the table, and Papyrus pressed his teeth to your hair, his own chuckle buzzing brightly against your head. “EVEN IF IT MEANS NAVIGATING AN ONSLAUGHT OF THINGS I _DESPERATELY DO NOT NEED TO BE AWARE OF REGARDING MY BROTHER_ ,” he said, his voice straining slightly in his teasing.

Your flush rose again, but you laughed despite the continued teasing - you were getting a little used to it, now. “I’ll keep working hard so I can spare you as soon as possible, Paps,” you replied, twisting to press a kiss to his cheekbone.

“ _SI ESTRELLAS QUIERE,[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/si%20Dios%20quiere)_ ” he replied, letting go of your hands and falling back to take another sip of his tea.

You couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

 

* * *

 _“_ [ _Stuttering, cold and damp_ ](https://youtu.be/R6RD6mjiIZE) _\- steal the warm wind, tired friend._

_Times are gone for honest men… And sometimes far too long for snakes.”_

The lace hem of your dress brushed over your feet as your hips swayed slowly to the beat of your song. The band of _Notte Oscura_ had been surprisingly accommodating and skilled, the pianist thankfully knowing this particular cover you wished to sing, and the drummer and violinist had picked up the tune quickly, reacting warmly to your surprised appreciation for their skills.

Your voice wrapped around the room as your lips pulled away from the mic just a hair, and you watched as a number of men twirled their partners in a spin through the dip of your voice. Despite being so much earlier in the night, hardly 9:30 at night, _Notte Oscura_ was nearly filled to the brim.

You caught the eyes of the bartender that was quickly growing on you - B’s head nodded marginally at you from her place behind her bartop, and even at this distance you caught the flicker of a smirk as she returned to focusing on the task at hand, pouring what seemed to be at least 8 drinks in a row. More importantly, you caught the already bustling crowd at her counter, keeping her busy even so early in the night.

 _“In my shoes a walking sleep, and my soul I pray to keep._ _  
_ _Heaven send Hell away - no one sings like you anymore…”_

You were distinctly aware of the press of calculating gazes on your back. With a flippant ease you put them out of your mind as you gazed over the singularly human crowd. You took deeper note from your vantage point of the twists of the tables, discolorations in the wall - though there were very few, and the patterns of servers and the particular tables guests were wary to edge around…

 _“Hang my head, drown my fear,_ _  
_ _'Til you all just disappear.”_

You saw Marcelle, returning for the third time to a table settled in the corded-off and shadowed corner of the room, the same table you had been brought to that first night.

You pulled the microphone from it’s stand as you came to the final lines of the song, your voice rising with an insistent and imploring power.

 _“Black hole sun, black hole sun, won't you come… Won't you come...?_ _  
_ _Won't you come-?”_

As the notes faded from the air, you were met with a rousing applause, impressed and eager human faces focused on you from all around the room.

Your heart throbbed at the utterly unchallenged sameness of their appearances.

At the same time, with an awareness you hadn’t previously discovered, you felt a hesitant pulse your own soul let out as it sought nothing short of comfort.

You tucked yourself into a flaring bow to hide the bolt of pain at the empty lack of a reply.

As you made your way backstage and out around to the main floor once more, you caught B waving you over to the bar. It took a few moments of navigating the crowd - women turned and delightedly shook your hand without prompting as you passed, praising your voice and your captivating demeanor, while men strode forward and stopped directly in front of you or grabbed your attention by touching your shoulders, telling you that you needed to return for repeat performances.

You thanked every one of them, laughing and playing down the praise just enough, saying that you’d certainly enjoy further opportunities if they were in the cards.

It may not have been one of Grillby’s drinks that greeted you immediately at the end of the bar once you arrived, but you were desperately grateful for its appearance nevertheless.

“Looks like you’ve made some new friends.”

B stood on the other side of the bar. She tucked away a towel behind the counter as she caught your gaze with a knowing lift of her brow on her otherwise deadpan expression.

“Friends in favor and under influence are sparse when the morning comes,” you replied, returning her look with a quirk of your own brow. That pulled a short chuckle out of her, and she nodded towards the glass.

“For the business,” she said simply.

“A favor or a thank you?” You asked, your mouth quirking in a practiced smile. She ignored the bustle behind her as her brow lifted a fraction higher.

“... Hang out a little longer, and I think you’ll see which if you agree to the offer,” she replied.

She turned then, making quick work of a cocktail that she slid to a barhand before turning back to you. Your eyes slid back to her, having checked out the room only to see Marcelle making his way to you from the direction of that shadowed, roped-off section.

“You don’t miss much,” you commented. It wasn’t a question, and you knew better than to pose it as one.

Her lips twitched.

“Something of a desired commodity in a speakeasy, I’d say,” she said.

Your gaze went between her and the drink.

It glistened with a sparkling condensation that complimented the gentle orange of the cocktail, rimmed with something crystalline and garnished with a wine-red cherry. You could nearly touch the pieces laid before you in the dangerous game you were playing with _Notte Oscura_ … and you found yourself acutely in need of figuring out which piece she played the role of.

Your hand wrapped around the glass, and you lifted it towards her in toast as you heard Marcelle approach.

“To being the commodity,” you said, taking a deep sip.

 

* * *

“Three performances already in as many weeks, and another to come again… _impresionante y peligroso,_   _chispita_ .[*](http://dictionary.reverso.net/spanish-english/impresionante)”

Your hands were soothing cradling a warm irish coffee as you watched Grillby take stock of the bar in the nearly empty _El Fuego Del Alma_ , and you nodded.

“The next one’s in just two days… I’ll admit, I’m grateful Mettaton hasn’t been asking too many questions about the slight shift in my performing hours on that particular day of the week.”

Grillby huffed, the sound just shy of a dry laugh, causing his flames to snap and pop slightly. “Understanding, _naturalmente_ , that’s what I’d call him,” he said wryly, an amused grin showing through his flames as his hands slipped along the shelves of alcoholic stock along the wall. “Certainly no known pressure to not question a certain bright-eye’s needed skillset when she’s got a soul brimming with one starry spark of a powerful bond.”

You spluttered a bit as you nearly spit out your spiked coffee.

“Wait, don’t tell me that Mettaton’s being coerced explicitly on this-?” You swore you would have picked up on something so obvious-

Grillby laughed, waving you off as he continued to check his stock. “No, no, _nada tan  obvio como eso_.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/nothing+so+obvious+as+that) But he knows well who supplies _Del Alma_ , as well as who keeps the… unsavory types out. Not to mention that though he’s just shy of being a boss monster proper, he should be close enough that he’s sensed your Soul’s shift.”

That one made you set your coffee down. You took a breath. Your fingers steepled themselves in front of you, arched over your mug.

“... Grillby. Grillby, my dearest, most wonderful, most alcoholically gifted and deftly-handed friend,” you said, your eyes drifting shut as you pressed your fingertips more firmly together and leaned over the stone bartop. You heard his flames crackle lightly as he shifted, a sound you now could easily characterize as questioning. You opened your eyes and locked your gaze with his. “... Grillby, can other monsters sense my bond? _Can they sense my stars-cursed projected feelings?_ ”

He was silent for a moment, and you could just barely catch his flaming brows rising. His shoulders then shook once, twice - and then he was clutching the bartop in uncontrolled, booming laughter.

You would have tossed your coffee at him if it wasn’t such a rare level of volume for him.

And, well, it would have hurt him just a little more than you were okay with.

Instead, you settled for you rapidly-increasing flush and growing confusion and threatening horror at the implications you hadn’t quite considered. Surely, _surely_ they would have told you if other monsters could sense your feelings to any degree…?

Grillby was still laughing. You scowled, even if your soul wasn’t really into it, and threw a napkin at him. He caught it easily and let it burn up in his fingers, the flames sparking mirthfully.

“I’m glad that at least _you’re_ getting enjoyment out of this,” you grumbled. Your Soul matched your disgruntlement, but even still there was a definite happiness at seeing your closest friend laugh so brightly and openly. It was an infectious feeling, especially as you could now feel the mirth slipping from his end of the bond. Despite yourself, you started chuckling too, though yours was laced with a distress and a nearly defeated acceptance of your apparent fate.

He finally wiped a hand at the corner of his eye, clearing a bead of golden liquid that had pooled in his laughter. He leaned a hip against the bar, meeting your gaze with his own bright one. “I simply… _estrellita_ , do you really think that a very significant majority of the patrons of _El Fuego Del Alma_ would be able to function without staring at you if they could feel the emotions you currently release through your bond without filter?”

You opened your mouth - and then snapped it shut.

“... A fair point,” you conceded. He chuckled again, shaking his head at your simultaneous wash of relief and vexed resignation.

Grillby shifted a little closer to you after a few moments, and with a simple snap of his glowing fingers a trail of gentle fire spun into life in front of you. It danced a series of small spirals, quickly drawing a reluctant smile from you as your face glowed under its light and warmth. The fire twisted and twirled, circling your mug and running along the obsidian surface, reheating your partially-forgotten drink. It then pooled over the edges and rose, tickling your nose harmlessly before you could pull away.

It disappeared with a small shower of fading embers as you laughed, your soul dancing once again in your chest.

“... We would never leave you so exposed, dearheart,” Grillby said then, his voice softer.

A warm feeling brushed against your Soul, a reassuring heat that you would know without even seeing him that it belonged to Grillby. You sighed, letting your fingers brush over the renewed warmth of your cup.

“... I know that,” you said, almost as if it were an admission. You stared at your polished black mug, watching the way your coffee slipped along the sides as you drew it closer once again. “I suppose… I’m just not used to sharing my emotions. And without even thinking about it, no less,” you said, a dry chuckle leaving you. Grillby’s presence was an anchor across from you, both physically and in the way you could nearly feel him with your soul. “You and I… well, you’ve known me the best, and for the longest - I’ve... never had a closer friend than you, Grillby.”

You sensed something from his side of the bond, but you didn’t want to linger on it for the moment - you didn’t want to distract yourself from saying what you needed to say.

“And even still… even still trusting you so thoroughly, I’ve never… well, I’ve always strived to be the one to support myself, to not depend on others. It’s… the lives we lead are wonderful in their own way, and I wouldn’t trade all of this for all the stars in the sky, but they’re challenging paths to walk, too. I don’t want to… I’ve never wanted to be a part of that latter category for you, or for the others. I don’t want to be a complicating, difficult factor. And with what I do on stage… I’ve gotten very, _very_ good at hiding my emotions as needed…”

Your fingers were turning lighter in color as you gripped your mug. You took a deep breath, your eyes unfocused, unsure of how to continue.

You bit your lip, willing yourself to find the words, aching at how they just wouldn’t come - but then Grillby’s hands laid over yours, quickly drawing your gaze from their broad, smooth, flickering surface up towards his face. He leaned over his side of the bar with ease, his glasses settling lower on his face than usual, allowing an unobstructed view of the golden almond-shaped flames that served as his eyes.

As if you were being hugged at your very core, you felt Grillby’s warm energy from your bond surround your soul protectively, gently. He whispered your name, wholly capturing your attention.

“You are never an unsavory factor in any of our lives. Any relationship in this world can certainly be complicated… but that is not inherently negative. You have brought joy and reassurance in so many, many ways to our lives, to our community… even outside of _nuestra pequeña familia_.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/our+little+family) I believe you would be hard-pressed to find a monster or a empathetic human who does not appreciate you and all you do.” He did not let your gaze waver, and you could feel his honesty through your bond fully now. “ _Chispita_ … We love you, so very dearly. And as the one who somehow has earned the honor of being your closest friend…” He smiled, the golden streak of a smile in his flames curling softly, and your soul hummed happily in familiar recognition of the fondness there. “Please, allow me to stress that your emotions are never a burden. I do apologize for the feeling - I know it must be incredibly stressful to feel like you have so little privacy among us right now, to put it… lightly,” he continued, his flames flickering lower now, the concern echoing through you in a strange sensation as you both heard it in his voice and felt it soothing along your soul. “But despite the current difficulties, I have every trust that you will find how to work along and through the bond, and regaining your own sense of independence alongside it.”

Your soul throbbed, soothed almost immediately by his warmth.

You knew the tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care outside of the worry for the sting they might cause for his flames.

He chuckled, sensing that. “Don’t worry about me. _Chispita_ …” He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “You don’t need to hide your emotions, not with us.”

There was the softest of crackling sizzles as a tear fell onto his hands.

“... Grillby, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I deserve you as a friend,” you managed to say.

He pulled back, a brow quirked. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to continue spending _tiempo de calidad[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/quality+time)_  with you to make you realize that you truly deserve it then, won’t I?”

You huffed a watery laugh at the sassy implication. “Can’t say I’d regret a single moment of your company, if you’re stars-set on it.”

At last he let go of your hands, sparking a little more heat into your drink for you. He crossed his arms as he did so, grinning at you. “ _De ve_ _rdad_ , _u_ _n alivio oír eso_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/english-spanish/a+relief+to+hear)” he replied.

You lifted your coffee and took a drink with an amused roll of your eyes instead of replying to his ongoing lip. The coffee warmed and grounded you, the spice and heat of the underlying alcohol sparking through your veins and lighting a softly renewed energy through you.

You hummed as you lowered it, catching Grillby’s now thoughtful gaze as a question came to your mind. “I don’t suppose you knew of any humans who were bonded to monster before the war?”

After less than a moment’s pause, you felt a wave of grief and pain spike from his soul before his expression could even shift.

Without thinking, you reached out to him - but not with your body.

As his grief and pain hit you, you felt yourself respond to it with a wave of gentle energy from your own soul, with hardly a conscious thought behind it. You pushed it back towards him, a soothing pulse of comfort and empathy that you could feel make contact with him.

His reaction was immediate.

Grillby’s eyes widened, his flames shooting upwards in golden whites and sunset oranges as he straightened, his arms uncrossing as his mouth dropped open by a fraction. He stood there as your own eyes widened, and between you you felt his soul’s energy brush back against yours. Your vision almost whited over at the sudden sensation - it wasn’t vertigo, but the sudden overwhelming flood of awareness that came from a completely pure connection. Only a few emotions were shared between you - understanding, empathy, gratitude, support - but you felt them so staggeringly pure that you found yourself utterly breathless.

The sensation faded within moments as whatever you had been able to do faded, and you found yourself utterly unknowing of to how to repeat your action. Still, the connection lingered warmly, a sparking memory of something strong you had been able to communicate and share with Grillby. He was still staring at you, his mouth slightly ajar, his eyes dropping to your chest, towards your soul.

From deathly still to a flash of movement that had his flames whipping behind him, he easily vaulted the bar and scooped you up into his arms in a tight embrace.

“ _Lo has hecho-! Estrellas saben que, aunque haya sido una sola vez, lo has hecho! Y tan rápido... Estrellita, lo rápido que aprendieron - estoy honrado y conmovido de compartir esto contigo. Presumo que ésta la primera vez, también-![*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/lo+has+hecho)_ ”

You found yourself laughing into his shoulder, his infectious joy kindling in you as you wrapped your arms around his neck in turn, your feet no longer able to reach the ground.

“Grillby, I’ve entirely lost what you’re trying to say, but - but-!” You laughed again, baffled but increasingly ecstatic. “What on earth was that-? How did I-? Was that… Did _I_ do that??”

“You actually _used_ the bond, _estrellita_!” he exclaimed, delight curling in his flames. You felt the smallest tugging pulse from his soul, and pulled back just a little to look at him.

“What was that?”

His eyebrows rose and his grin spread again. “So you felt that, then-?”

A whisper of magic brushed over your shoulders, eliciting a thrum of excitement from your soul that was all but involuntary now.

“ _¿qué pasa, Grillby?_ ”

Grillby turned around, his arms still wrapped around you securely as you held onto him. There was a sharp, short inhale as he did so, and not from Grillby.

“Sans - she shared her intent,” Grillby said, a firm and joyful pride in his voice that buzzed pleasantly through your bond.

You couldn’t see Sans with your back now towards him, but you felt the tiniest spark of distracted surprise from him.

“you - _espere, ¿de veras?[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Espere%2C+%C2%BFde+veras%3F)_ ” His voice came closer now with another whisper of magic, and from directly behind you now he spoke again. “you’re not… ya sure it wasn’t just a coincidental sharing sort of deal?”

You were confused, and knew it was emanating from your soul by the amused huff from Grillby. You twisted slightly in his embrace, trying to get a look at Sans - you couldn’t catch his face, but saw the edge of his shoulder. “I don’t know precisely what almost any of this means, boys, but something different definitely happened,” you affirmed.

Sans’ face was in your line of vision then, and his eyelights searched your gaze. “what happened, _pajarita_?”

His voice was steady, its low and easy tone sparking a familiar heat in you. You hadn’t seen him in nearly five days - not terribly long, but certainly long enough when you spent as much time with your thoughts wandering to him-

Grillby cleared his throat, and your gaze shot to him and his raised eyebrow before returning to Sans, who’s grin was a hair sharper with more than a little heat behind it.

You decided to not address your accidental thoughts. “Ah, well, Grillby and I had been talking… sharing some things, and I asked him a question-” Your gaze flickered upwards and down before you decided it wasn’t something that needed sharing at the moment, the distraction not missed by Sans. “And I could… I could feel suddenly that he was… terribly sad, I suppose. And then… I’m not sure how I did it, but I wanted to comfort him, and support him, and somehow a wave of the energy that I know you all are able to - well, manipulate? - I somehow sent it to him, and from what I can understand, he _felt_ it,” you explained.

Sans’ gaze went to Grillby, his eyesockets wide and his hand lifting towards you. “she... you felt it?” he asked Grillby.

Grillby nodded, grinning.

You might have fallen over for the staggering wave of elation and pride that came from Sans if you weren’t still being held by Grillby.

That changed in a split moment as suddenly you found yourself wrapped in a glow of azure blue, tugged from Grillby’s arms with a roll of your friend’s eyes before your back was suddenly flush against Sans’ chest and he laughed, the sound as booming and joy-filled as Grillby’s own earlier. You were spun then as his arms came around your waist, lifting you high enough that you had to quickly cling to his shoulders at the worry of losing your balance - but you could still feel the hum of his gravity-denying magic against your skin, and relaxed in his hold as your blush lit your face.

“ _nuestra inteligent pajarita_   _es rápida con sus pies_ _siempre supe que ella estaba_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Ella+es+r%C3%A1pida+con+sus+pies)” he said, a delighted thrum gently, quietly brushing against your soul, so soft that you wondered if even Grillby could have been aware of it. “ _sabía que podía hacerlo, por las estrellas, y vaya... sólo fueron un par de semanas[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Sab%C3%ADa+que+pod%C3%ADa+hacerlo)_  - we’ll figure out the rest soon, won’t we, doll?”

You laughed, meeting his gaze with some slight difficulty based on your position. His own chuckle buzzed against your ribs, and you felt the heat in you now redirect itself in two distinct directions. Before your thoughts could spiral too firmly - and dear stars above, you could already feel the way his sturdy arms tightened slightly around your waist - you spoke up. “I haven’t the slightest clue as to what I did, but with you - both of you, and the others - by my side, I think I may just have a chance.”

Grillby’s smile split through his flames again despite the teasing quirk to his brow, and you could feel Sans’ laughter rumbling against you.

You let your fingers fan out slightly at his shoulder, feeling at home in his hold, his broad shoulders oddly enticing as you carefully let your weight shift in his supportive grip. You remembered the thick build of the bones beneath his sleeves from the night you bonded with your family, the texture and gentle almost-glow of them under the very literal magic of the night entrancing you...

Your fingers barely stopped shy of brushing along the vertebrae of his neck, and your blush deepened as you caught the way his cheekbones began to stain blue, the way he shut his eyes and simply held you as he chuckled, still emanating pride, but holding firmly back on something a bit more insistent, a bit hotter… You quickly shook your head as you lifted your gaze to Grillby, who wore his own grin of positively devilish quality. By the stars, every moment of your life now simply gave him further teasing ammunition down the line.

You knew you were right, and with their help you could sort out your bond - and you had more than a few reasons to figure it out as quickly as possible.

 

* * *

“B, I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you out on that one. A Bee’s Knees is far preferable to a Southside Fizz.”

“Birdie, you’ve got your priorities twisted if you think honey’s ever better than a quality simple syrup in a good cocktail.”

“And you’re clearly in desperate need of some better honey if you’re of that opinion.”

“I bet you prefer a Corpse Reviver to a twisted Hanky Panky served dirty.”

“... By the… hell, B, I hope you’re joking.”

Your grin was easy and warm, but your eyebrows had lifted at the last drink alternative she had listed. A slight shudder ran through you at the thought of the drink, and you eyed the cocktail you had nearly just taken a sip of.

Across the bar, facing the back wall as she prepped another drink, B snorted. “That’s my twist on a Mary Pickford, birdie. Shouldn’t be too out of your tastes.”

Your eyebrows didn’t lower, but they stayed up for a different reason now, impressed despite yourself. “Fresh pineapple juice and all?”

You caught the edge of a smirk against the deep brown of her skin. “Fresh pineapple juice and all.”

You were past your one drink limit, so you didn’t have as much time to spare now… but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to speak longer with her. Not to mention - well, it _had_ been awhile since you had a true Mary Pickford…

You tipped back the cocktail glass brimming with a softly pink liquid. The comparatively weak flare of magic on your tongue was odd - immediately so. The drink itself was delicious, and you focused on categorizing the experience to relay later - it was the _alcohol_ that was buzzing strangely across your tongue, sending a fizz of an energy that you almost felt was an attempt to be compliantly relaxing… if not for your awareness and current resistance for it.

That resistance was waning, though.

You smiled as you lowered the glass, letting appreciation show in your eyes as you glanced from the glass back to B. You needed to bring back a sample of this particular drink. “Fresh indeed - and… is that actual Maraschino _extract_ in there, not just the grenadine?”

B turned to you, her hip cocking to the side as she tossed a shaker into the air, making it spin end over end a number of times before she caught it again. An eyebrow had quirked, and that slight tilt to her lips that betrayed a reluctant smile was back. “... I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so certain you’d spent more than your fair share of time in this sorta establishment.”

You grinned back at her, ignoring the crowd behind you, some of whom were clearly men uncertain as to whether they should demand your attention yet. “I’ll pretend you’re impressed nevertheless,” you replied.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, birdie,” she shot back, tossing the shaker again in the air with a sparkle to her eye. As she caught the metal container, her eye slipped to just past your shoulder, and something shifted in her expression. She then smirked and nodded, a gesture directing you to look behind you. By the time you reacted, she was already turning to face another wave of customers.

Behind you was Ella herself - the girl who had invited you here originally. She was flanked by Marcelle, who gave you a quick nod of a bow as Ella spoke up.

“I can’t believe I got to catch your fourth performance here - and you somehow were just as amazing as always - no, no, even _better!_ ” she exclaimed, leaning forward to clasp your hand not occupied with a cocktail glass. “Truly, you’re an amazing performer!”

You smiled at her and winked, an expression of pleased gratitude crossing your face. “You’re too sweet, Ella, really,” you said. “I just get up there and do what my heart tells me I’m meant to do.”

Her eyes nearly twinkled in the crystal candlelight of the extravagant chandeliers. “But that’s just it, you really _must_ be meant to do this! I’ve never met someone so… so gifted _and_ wonderful,” she said. You swore her eyelashes fluttered. And… that might be a blush on her face.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were buttering me up for something, gorgeous,” you replied, letting a little teasing into your tone as you lifted the glass to your lips. You feigned a small sip as she flustered slightly.

“Well, I _do_ mean it - but I’ve also been told, well…” Ella leaned in, as if conspiratorially. “Would you be willing to return next week? 9 days from now, actually- and plan to perform later, and perhaps stay a little longer afterwards?”

She let go of your hand and Marcelle leaned in and pressed a small bag into your open palm. Your brows lifted slightly.

“As thank you for tonight… and next week,” he said, his voice low and polite. His own steady gaze nearly betrayed itself for how careful it was, however, and you glanced from him to the bag now in your hand. He nodded at you and walked away. Ella leaned in once more, one of her pale hands resting gently on your forearm.

“Can I plan to see you perform next week then…?” She ventured, her voice carrying just barely loud enough in the drunken bustle around you both.

You let yourself pause, your gaze wandering to the side for one second, two, then- “... Alright, I’m not much of one to miss out on such an intriguing offer and opportunity, and certainly not when you’ve been so accommodating so far,” you replied, your mouth quirking into a smile, your eyes catching the stray twinkling of the light just right. Ella’s smile widened, and she looked like she was about to throw her arms around you.

“Oh, _excellent-!_ They’ll be - god, I can’t _wait_ ,” she said. She quickly turned around, pressing a kiss to her fingers and blowing it to you as she pressed back through the crowd. “I’ve got to go check a few things - but I’m so excited for next week already~!”

She disappeared as the wall of human elite reformed around her. You rested back against the bar, allowed just enough space as you cradled your drink and eyed the bag in your hand. Your payment had always come like this, but… well, this bag was _decidedly_ heavier. Potentially double-the-price heavier, if your practiced hand weighed it right.

You heard a low whistle to your side, and glanced up to catch B’s eye on your hand as she absently carved a perfect twist off of an orange. “That kinda shine might just light a way through the night, like it or not,” she commented offhand.

You tucked the bag away alongside one breast, the safest place a girl would often resort to in these times. “Hard to say what the going rate is for a good night these days,” you simply replied, winking at her.

For the second time that night, she snorted as you turned to step away with your drink. “You know as well as I just how much horseshit that statement is,” she said.

You gave her a single wave and one last grin before you disappeared into the crowd. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, B.”

 

* * *

Papyrus handed you another cup of coffee.

“ARE YOU QUITE SURE YOU’RE RECOVERED, _MI QUERIDA HERMANA?_ ”

You smiled at Papyrus as you accepted the boon, only the echo of a distant throb of pain now in your head. “Your help last night was everything I needed,” you assured him. “Thank the stars you were able to track down Alphys for the extra candy, that fourth performance had me approached by more people offering drinks and while I may be good, I can only skirt around so many drinks without raising suspicions…”

Undyne snorted as she crossed her legs, half draped over the couch she laid on across the coffee table from you. A small radio played warmly across the room, the fireplace not yet lit in the early afternoon hour, allowing her commanding voice to be all the more attention-grabbing. “Yeah, yeah, we all know that if the other bonehead had been able to stick around you’d’ve found something a hell of a lot better to distract you from the pain-”

She interrupted herself with a yelp as one of her feet suddenly slipped and crashed off the couch as if it weighed as much as a car.

Papyrus whistled innocently as he settled himself on the other end of the couch you were seated on.

“... Alright, Undyne, but we both know you damn well wouldn’t want to be within a mile’s radius of this place if that happened,” you said, deciding not to comment.

You were blushing up a storm, but you knew it, and even better, you knew she knew it. She glared at Papyrus and then at you, but ended up shuddering with a look of mild disgust. “Alright, alright, _punto entendido_ ,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Punto+entendido) you’re damn right there, Canary.”

You huffed a dry laugh and took a deep sip of your coffee. It was prepared impeccably, exactly to your tastes, and you looked at it surprised before lifting your gaze to Papyrus’.

“Hey, Pap, how’d you know..?”

He laughed proudly and winked quite audibly at you. “A MASTER STRATEGIST NEVER REVEALS HIS METHODS!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, thoughtful, but shrugged good-naturedly under the lovely influence of coffee so near to when you had woken up. He seemed pleased that you hadn’t pushed further, though you wondered if that was… relief you were feeling through the bond?

You’d tuck that one away for later.

“So just over a week till you go back then, huh?” Undyne mused, plopping both her feet back up on the couch, shooting a challenging glance to Papyrus. He had turned slightly to studiously roll the ends up his sleeves up towards his elbows in a nearly creaseless fashion, conveniently unable to catch her look. He didn’t have a jacket on this afternoon, and neither did Undyne - which led to you abandoning your own as well, safely relaxing deep within the Core’s home as you were. You didn’t have many changes of clothes here anyways, only really having the outfit Gaster himself had ‘gifted’ you to change into in the morning after once again spending the night. It was becoming a regular occurrence now - on the nights you performed at _Notte Oscura,_ you would return to the hideout to fill in Papyrus and Undyne and - last night, at least - Alphys. Gaster was apparently once again occupied, and Sans had to leave immediately upon seeing you safely teleported in, his eyesockets the only thing betraying his slight tension, releasing for just a moment before he left once again as he held your gaze…

Undyne sighed forcefully, snapping your attention back to the moment.

“Yes, yes. Next week - Friday, actually, by the math of it,” you reaffirmed. “Later at night, a weekend show, and an effectively _insistent_ invitation to stay for a meeting afterwards…”

“THIS IS NO SMALL MEASURE OF MOVEMENT,” Papyrus said, his voice serious. You and Undyne nodded. Undyne was grinning toothily now, looking decidedly pleased.

“Looks like you’ve been doing a damn good job there, then, and _está a punto de dar sus frutos,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/a+punto+de+dar+sus+frutos)_ ” she said, her fist clenching in the air.

“WE CERTAINLY NEVER DOUBTED HER SKILL,” Papyrus said, a brow bone raising, and a grin on his own face now.

Used to the flush their compliments and teasing would rise on your face, you forged onwards. “You both… hah. Thank you,” you said, shaking your head with a smile you couldn’t quite push down at the moment. “Still though… four performances and I’m in for the big leagues with them? I’m not so sure,” you continued. “ _Notte Oscura_ is the biggest name in human-only speakeasies, and simultaneously the biggest speakeasy backed by _Il Sangue_. I doubt I’ll have made it anywhere with too terribly high a clearance…”

Papyrus nodded as he smoothed the final fold of his sleeves. His forearms were revealed now, revealing the same thick but _lean_ \- simply no other word came to you for it - bones you had seen during the night of your bonding, slightly fused and plated over one another. He held one still-gloved hand to his chin as he looked to you thoughtfully. “IT REALLY COULD GO A NUMBER OF WAYS, BUT I WOULD SAY YOUR CONCLUSION IS SOLID WITH WHAT WE KNOW SO FAR. YOU MAY BE OFFERED A BIGGER PERFORMING SPOT, THAT WOULD BE THE MOST LIKELY OUTCOME… BUT DEPENDING ON HOW WELL YOU’VE BEEN NOTICED THERE, THERE MAY BE A TWIST ON THE DEAL.”

“There’s no way they’re going to outsmart our Canary,” Undyne interjected. Her grin was sharp as she leveled it towards Papyrus, a dangerously promising flash to her eyes. “Those _Il Sangue pendejos_ have been begging for something way more drastic than we’ve given them so far, so if they want to try to cross a line... _Me gustaría ver que alguien lo intente.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Me+gustar%C3%ADa+ver+que+alguien+lo+intente)_ ”

The fierce protection and sharp warning that poured from her soul made you want to - well, perhaps not hug her, but you felt a wave of increased fondness and a powerful appreciation for your growing friendship with her. Her gaze shot to you, and you caught the navy tinge to her scales on her cheeks. She waved a hand at you as if shooing you off, and you laughed quietly at her reluctant bashfulness.

You all fell quiet for a minute as you each considered the coming possibilities.

With what was to come, your mind ended up drifting to the message you had received from Mettaton through Grillby earlier last night. You had been readying yourself for your trip to _Notte Oscura_ using Grillby’s carefully crafted drink as usual when he had crackled suddenly, turning back towards you. It had been weeks since you had last actually seen Mettaton, something he was apparently distraught by, and Grillby had passed along the firm invitation to attend Mettaton’s latest show, seated in the VIP section ‘of course’, with a few friends should you so desire. You had immediately asked Grillby to come with you, but he turned you down with a rueful grin.

_“As much as I’d love to see our very own metallic showman attempt to one-up himself for two hours straight while in your company, I do actually need to stay with the bar on the weekend.”_

_Your gaze begged him, desperation and hope rolling off your soul, but he simply huffed a crackling laugh and shook his head. “Really, lo siento, estrellita… but perhaps there is the company of a few others close to us that may have a moment to spare?”_

_You swatted at his arm as he leaned towards you with a small quirk to his brow. He laughed again, and you sighed with your own smile as you considered your options..._

“WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND, CANARY? YOU SEEM… ANXIOUS?”

You looked up at him in surprise, realizing that you had been blankly staring at the radio for a few minutes now. From the look on your face, you had definitely not had any accidental luck in concealing your emotions as you remembered the night before. You took a moment to consider his face, to consider what it meant to ask a couple of high-ranking mobsters for such a thing.

You hummed lightly. “Well... Pap, Undyne - I, ah, well, I don’t suppose you have any plans this Saturday?”

Their curious surprise was prompting you to continue.

A single finger of yours twirled a loose lock of hair hanging close to your neck. “I’ve been invited to a performance that night, and I can bring a few friends along with me to sit in the VIP section. I don’t suppose either of you would be interested in going out with me that night?”

Papyrus pressed a hand to his chest, a simultaneous sparkle to his gaze and a glowing orange, watery wetness forming at the edges of his eyesockets.

“ _Y MI QUERIDA HERMANA,_ YOU WISHED TO INVITE THE GREAT PAPYRUS-?”

“And me, ya numbskull-!”

“AND THE VERY LOUD AND POWERFUL AND NOOGIE-INCLINED UNDYNE?”

You tilted your head at him, a little confused, but starting to grin at his odd delight. “Well, of course, Pap. You both are two of my closest friends - even if one of you is a little inclined to a more violent form of it-”

“Hey, _no one_ friendships as hard as me-” Undyne crowed from the other couch, sitting up quickly and pounding fist to her chest. You couldn’t tell if she blinked or winked at you, but you grinned at her insistence regardless.

“You’re not wrong there, Undyne,” you acquiesced.

Papyrus scooted towards you, mock offense in his expression as he put his hands to your shoulders and looked at Undyne. “EXCUSE YOU, UNDYNE, ARE YOU SAYING THAT YOU ARE MORE OF A BEST FRIEND THAN EVEN I?”

“You can’t beat me in this, Papyrus! Isn’t that right, Canary?”

She was standing now, and now you weren’t sure if she was trying to encourage you or threaten you by aggressively flexing her muscles and grinning very-nearly maniacally at you.

“... Um.”

“THAT SOUNDS LIKE A CHALLENGE UNDYNE. THAT SOUNDS A _LOT_ LIKE A CHALLENGE.”

“ _¿Y si lo es, punk?[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/%C2%BFY+si+lo+es%2C)_ ”

“ _ENTONCES ACEPTO SU DESAFIO-!_[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Entonces+acepto)”

“So… does this mean you’ll both come?”

Papyrus looked down at you. He almost looked surprised to see you cradled in his arms, one of his feet propped up on the coffee table, Undyne on top of it in an unsuccessful effort to tower over him. Somehow, you had rescued your coffee in their sudden movements and kept it from spilling.

“... AH. YES. ABOUT THAT,” he said slowly, his eyesockets slowly narrowing as his gaze slid to the side.

You lifted an eyebrow.

Undyne smacked a hand to her forehead. “ _¡Maldito hijo de-"_ She dragged it down her face before looking back at you. "We’ve actually got to work that night, running watcheye for an event... and the other bonehead’s in on it, too,” she admitted, looking annoyed, as if she had already lost out on a competition.

Papyrus sturdy grip on you tightened for just a moment as he and Undyne were hit with the wave of your soul’s disappointment. You quickly raised a hand to them as you winced in realization, moving to quiet them. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you both feel bad-! There’s more important things going on than seeing a performance with me, I know that, please don’t take it the wrong way-”

“ _MI HERMANA,_  PLEASE DON’T TALK DOWN ABOUT YOURSELF IN THAT WAY! YOUR HAPPINESS IS JUST AS IMPORTANT - BUT PRIOR ENGAGEMENTS _ARE_ ALIGNED, AND THIS IS THE SORT OF WORK WE CANNOT EXCUSE OURSELVES FROM,” Papyrus said, effectively quieting you with his firm words and an apologetic energy drifting from his soul.

“We’ve got a reputation to keep, after all,” you said, your smile returning at his words. The thought of any of you telling Gaster that they had simply decided to go see a show instead of working crossed your mind for a moment, and you shuddered and shut down that train of thought before you could imagine the consequences too vividly. “I’m sure he’ll invite me again another time, I’ll just let him know to give me more of a notice when it comes around.”

Still standing on the table, Undyne crossed her arms and looked at you curiously. “Who’s the show of, anyways?”

“Oh, it’s just Mettaton’s latest show, that’s why I’m thinking another opportunity will arise. Though I suppose I shouldn’t say ‘just’, apparently he-” you stopped yourself mid-sentence. Undyne and Papyrus’ eyes had widened, and nearly matching disbelieving grins were spreading on their faces. “... You know, that sort of look has never been terribly reassuring when it’s directed at me.”

“You’re not pulling my fin, right? You got invited the to shiny _pendejo's_  show?” Undyne questioned eagerly.

“Yes?”

“YOU’VE BEEN INVITED, AND TO THE _VIP SECTION??_ ”

“Well, I mean, he’s my employer technically, but we’re also good friends so- wait.” You cut yourself off again, an excitement catching from them in your soul. “Don’t tell me… is that the same show you all have to go to?”

Their grins were all you needed in reply.

Your gaze flickered to Papyrus’ chest as you felt a whisper of intent from it. His ribs were sturdy like Sans, you could feel that very clearly as you were effectively cradled against them - but like the bones of his arm, his chest overall felt more lean and slender than Sans’. Still powerful, but in a decidedly different way from his brother. You set your free hand on his chest, just below his sternum, and tilted your head in question at him.

“YOU’LL SEE,” Papyrus simply answered with a mischievous tilt to his smile. You could see Sans’ influence in that grin, and had to bite back a laugh at the delight it brought you.

“Alright, I’ll leave the mystery for now,” you allowed. “That’s fantastic though, we’ll all be there-! Will… Hm. Can I steal you away to come sit with me, or are there other plans laid on that end?”

Undyne smirked. “I’m sure we can work something out there, at least.”

… These two were being no less cryptic, and your curiosity and mild concern for the influence these two had on one another was only growing.

You lifted your coffee to your mouth, about to take a sip as you narrowed your eyes in careful consideration of your companions. A whisper of magic tickled your shoulders, like a finger dragging a chill along your skin, the cover of your shirt be damned…

“... somehow, i guess ‘m not terribly surprised at this setup.”

You inhaled sharply as Papyrus whipped around, preparing for the onslaught of coffee over your face and clothing-

An immediate blue glow overtook your mug and its contents, and it slipped out of your grip and off to safety as Papyrus greeted his brother.

“SANS! FANTASTIC NEWS!”

“that’s a _latte_ energy behind your words there,” Sans replied, his grin easy as a single eye socket closed in his prolonged wink. The shadows under his eyes were deep and conerningly dark, but there was an unmistakeable mirth in his eye even so. His visible eyelight caught your gaze when you bit down a laugh at the frustrated, wordless noise that Papyrus choked out. “go on, _espresso_ yourself. how’s it _bean?”_ His grin widened as you struggled further, pressing a hand to your mouth, your gaze pleading with him, though whether asking for more or begging for him to stop even you couldn’t say.

Before he could grant your wish either way, Papyrus spoke up. “SANS, YOUR JOKES ARE AS TERRIBLE AS ALWAYS, BUT I WON’T LET THEM SPOIL THIS,” he said with the air of a monster beset by life’s greatest woes despite his best efforts. “CANARY, WON’T YOU SHARE WHAT YOUR PLANS ARE FOR SATURDAY?”

This caught Sans attention properly. His other eye opened and he waited for your response.

You looked at Papyrus, then back to Sans. “Well, ah, I’ll be going to Mettaton’s show, that apparently you’ll al be at as well - he invited me to sit in the VIP section with a few friends, if I chose to bring any,” you said, suspicious of Papyrus’ intentions here, but a little pleased even still at the prospect. Especially, you could openly admit to yourself, at the prospect of being able to spend more time with not only your other friends, but with Sans…

“YES, _QUERIDO HERMANO_ , OUR CANARY WILL BE ATTENDING METTATON’S SHOW AS WELL! DRESSED TO THE NINE’S. AND IN NEED OF GOOD COMPANY, AS I’M NOT SURE WE CAN ALL SIT IN THE SAME AREA DUE TO THE NATURE OF OUR DESIGNATED PRESENCE THERE. IN FACT, I WOULD SAY THAT IT WOULD BE BEST IF ONLY ONE OF US SAT DIRECTLY WITH HER, AS MUCH AS IT PAINS ME TO NOT BE ABLE TO ALL SIT TOGETHER.”

You froze in Papyrus’ arms.

_Master strategist indeed._

“... ya don’t say,” Sans said, terribly, terribly slowly. His eyelights had locked onto Papyrus’ gaze above you.

“I DO INDEED SAY.”

“and who might ya be thinking oughta be at her side, Paps?”

“WELL, BASED ON THE LAYOUT OF THE AUDIENCE AREA, I WOULD SAY IT NEEDS TO BE SOMEONE INCREDIBLY AGILE. THE VIP SECTION IS THE ONLY ONE ON THE SMALLER AND ADMITTEDLY EXTRAVAGANT BALCONY, WHILE THE MAJORITY OF THE AUDIENCE IS ON THE MAIN FLOOR. _NATURALMENTE,_ IT WOULD BE PRUDENT TO HAVE MORE OF US DOWN THERE.”

“ _naturalmente._ ”

“IN FACT, ON FURTHER CONSIDERATION, I WOULD SAY THAT OUR BEST COURSE OF ACTION WOULD BE TO HAVE YOU WITH OUR DEAR CANARY, WITH YOUR ABILITY TO TELEPORT PROVIDING THE ULTIMATE AGILITY.”

“you… wow. okay, i do need to say, i never thought i’d hear ya admit that i’m anything along the lines of ‘agile in an ultimate way’.”

“DON’T LET IT GO TO YOUR HEAD.”

“there’s not much up there anyways, i’m a bit of a-”

“ESTO LO JURO POR LAS ESTRELLAS,[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/Esto+lo+juro+por+las+estrellas) SANS, IF YOU SAY BONEHEAD, I WILL PERSONALLY THROW YOU OUT THE NEAREST WINDOW.”

“... knucklehead?”

“... I DO KNOW PRECISELY WHERE THE CLOSEST ONE IS. I ALREADY HAVE THE ROUTE PLANNED. JUST SO YOU KNOW.”

“ _no_ _esperaría nada menos, verdad.[*](http://context.reverso.net/translation/spanish-english/esperar%C3%ADa+nada+menos)_ ”

“... THAT ASIDE, WELL, I DO WANT TO CHECK IN, OF COURSE. THIS ALL DEPENDS ON OUR CANARY.”

Papyrus turned at last to regard you. That devilish twist to his smile was back, and he arched a brow bone at you.

“WELL, CANARY? DO YOU THINK YOU COULD MAKE DO AT LEAST DURING THE SHOW ITSELF WITH ONLY HAVING THE COMPANY OF MY BROTHER?”

… Stars, this skeleton had found a way to steal your breath by being _the world’s cleverest wingman_.

“... what do ya say? think you can have a good enough time with me?”

Sans captured your gaze as he spoke. His tone was easy and teasing, but you saw the very real question along his face, curving the shadows under his eyesockets, slipping along the tilt of his grin.

You grinned.

“I think we’ll be able to make a great time of it,” you replied.

Papyrus set you down and framed his hips with his hands, nodding in a failed attempt at a solemn gesture as his smile lit up his eyes. “EXCELENTE!” He turned to Undyne as Sans took a step forward, coming close to you.

“... you really sure you’re alright with just this suit of bones keeping you company on your night out?”

His hands were tucked into his pockets and he spoke low, his voice carrying underneath the sudden loud planning that Papyrus had launched into behind you. His face was tilted slightly, and you found yourself mirroring it, your eyes searching his face as your grin started to reflect a little of the insistent heat flowing through your body at his proximity.

“Sans, I’d be hardpressed to have it any other way.”

His hand lifted from his pocket, the movement unhurried as he held your gaze. The smooth texture of his glove had your heart skipping a beat as he took hold of your hand, lifting it up without sparing your gaze.

Slowly, gently, he pressed a ghost of a kiss to your knuckles, never looking away from you.

“... it’s a date, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah, and at last here we are - I've only been waiting to be able to bring you what the next several chapters will hold for _the entire time I've been writing this story._ Were there any particular scenes or moments that really captured your interest, or maybe drew a question to your mind about what's to come~?
> 
> ... These next chapters should very, _very_ interesting... wouldn't you say?
> 
> In any case, thank you all for your kind comments last chapter and your ongoing readership! I know most people don't like chapters that seem to be 'filler' content, but time-passing is _very_ important (in all stories and particularly right now in this one), and there are a number of snippets of ongoing things that have been tied into this chapter, so I decided to give you a long chapter of a number of scenes as a few weeks passed to go through it all in this chapter rather than two - checking in with a number of our Core members with Reader, sneaking in some developments... I hope you enjoyed at least a few particular moments there...  <3
> 
> And I've got a few things I want to share with you, so do bear with me for a moment longer. <3
> 
> First up - _I've got a writing/prompt blog now!_ I've already got a number of answered prompts and imagines up (it's all undertale and will remain that way) at [nighttimelights.tumblr.com](nighttimelights.tumblr.com) \- feel free to send me some prompts if you'd like! It's a good warmup for me as I work on this story, and allows me to explore different AUs and ideas without getting distracted by a full fic alongside SS. ^^
> 
> Next up - holy hell below and stars above, how could I not have shared this here before? _Some of you lovely readers have created fanart for me-!!_
> 
> By Satana-Madness on DeviantArt, [a picture of Sans himself](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fsatana-madness.deviantart.com%2Fart%2FSpeakeasy-Soul-672972638%3Fga_submit_new%3D10%253A1491338407%26ga_type%3Dedit%26ga_changes%3D1%26ga_recent%3D1&t=OWE0M2ZlMTcxNTM2MWNjYzZjOTZhMzNmZGE1YzkxZDYxNjg5OTA5OCx0UWt6REViQQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ADI7gOQ3ng_wxkIA3AxE6Kg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fnighttimelights-prompted.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F159486696280%2Fspeakeasy-soul-fanart&m=1)!  
> And three from the lovely JolieMariella on Tumblr, [her first](http://joliemariella.tumblr.com/post/155570608021/some-fanart-for-my-sisters-nighttimesounds) (a stunning interpretive picture of Sans and Reader), [her second](http://joliemariella.tumblr.com/post/155621893091/moar-fanart-for-my-sisters-nighttimeskels) (a hidden, stolen kiss), and [her third](http://joliemariella.tumblr.com/post/158659040101/stupid-doodle-for-my-sister-nighttimesounds-in) (a hilarious doodle running with the events of the last chapter)! 
> 
> Please go check out their _amazing_ work and give them some love! I'm still all kinds of enamored with what they've done and grinning like an idiot anytime I think of or see their work. If you happen to draw anything, too, I would love to see it! Feel free to tag me or message me as nighttimelights-prompted on Tumblr (or here) so I can see it and hopefully share it.  <3 <3
> 
> I believe that wraps things up for now - I'll be back soon with the start of a chain of heart- and soul-pounding events, should everything go as planned... or rather, for our characters, _decidedly beyond their expectations._ ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my latest fic and my first trip into Sans/Reader hell - and my final caving in to the temptation of the Undertale mob AU.
> 
> Any feedback you have keeps my soul going and helps me write faster! I'd love to hear from you, so please drop a comment or kudos here, or come talk to me on tumblr - i'm nighttimeskels with my undertale-focused sideblog over there. 
> 
> Can't wait to bring you the rest of this story - I've got a whole lot in store for our Reader and for Sans, too...


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